The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction
by Lily Winterwood
Summary: The Nations have no choice – to deal with the badfic influx from the English dub, they enlist the side characters and create the newest Official Fanfiction University on the block. Get ready for pain, fanstudents.
1. An Unexpected Visit from a Canadian

**Title:** The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction  
**Character(s)/Pairings:** The World. Take that as you will.

**Genre:** Humour, Parody, General  
**Rating/Warnings:** PG-13 bordering on R for violence, swearing, and innuendo.  
**Summary:** Not all of the new Hetalia fanfics coming in from the fanfiction influx are good ones. The Nations have no choice – to deal with the badfic, they enlist the side characters and create the newest Official Fanfiction University on the block. Get ready for pain, fanbrats.

**Notes: **If you want to enrol in IAHF, please fill out the form enclosed in the chapter. Be as creative as you want; I'll interpret it as creatively as I want. Also, I don't own the concept of the OFU; that belongs to dear Miss Cam, who started it all with OFUM. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia, but I think it also belongs to the Boarders who carry on the noble tradition. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. The opinions asserted in this fanfic are by no means true for all fans; I'm just using stereotypical examples of Hetalia fans.

* * *

**Part I**

"There's nothing else we can do about it," the tall blond man remarked as he stood at the head of the meeting table. "The influx of fanfiction in this fandom, encouraged by the new English dub, has caused some troubles within our Canon. This you know."

"Yes, Hugh, or Allen, or whoever the fuck you are," another blond man with thick eyebrows and a British accent snapped irritably. "I don't think we have any choice now."

"I disagree with l'Angleterre, by principle of our rivalry," the Frenchman sitting next to him huffed. Thick-Brows scowled and shoved him.

"You'll get us nowhere, frog!"

"Well, ahaha! What can we say? The Hero approves of this new university thingy!" the American sitting on the other side of the Briton exclaimed, flashing a thumbs-up at the man at the head of the table. "Anyone who disagrees with the Hero gets the American Nuke Treatment!"

"Save that for the fanwriters," the first man said hastily. "Any objections?" he asked the room at large.

"I agree with Alfred-san," the Japanese man sitting across from the Briton and the American said coolly, folding his arms and looking at his notes.

"Gods, Kiku, can't you ever come up with your own ideas?" the Swiss next to him demanded. The Japanese man looked mildly ticked off, but said nothing.

"I think we're all in agreement," the German next to the Swiss said politely. "Today marks the founding of the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction, or the IAHF for short. Technical details will be worked out by the end of this week's agenda. Am I correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Beilschmidt," the first man agreed. "We all know who the Headmaster is. All of you will make up the staff, and we will draw up a list of who teaches what in due course. And as for the side characters such as Workbitch and myself," here he gestured to a dark-haired man next to him who wore a suit and a haggard expression, "we will act as the official mediators between the fanwriters and the rest of the staff. Most fanfiction universities employ third parties from the ranks of the fans, but I believe that we side characters can handle the job well enough."

"We're relying on you for that, then," the Briton replied. "When do the fanstudents arrive?"

"As soon as everything gets squared away," the first man asserted. "So from this moment forth, I will be the new Course Coordinator for the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. The fanwriters will refer to me as Mr. Allen."

"Or Mr. Hugh, depending on the day of the week," the man known as Workbitch interjected.

Mr. Allen smirked. "That's true; I do have a bit of an identity crisis." He paused, and then began to laugh evilly.

The Russian sitting in the back with the scarf picked up the laughter, and soon everyone else was cackling. Except the American, he was looking suitably creeped out.

"Welcome to IAHF, students," Mr. Allen whispered menacingly.

* * *

A week later, a short little Asian girl with glasses and a weight problem logged onto her computer at midnight and finished a story.

"Oh my god, I can't wait to post this!" she squealed as she typed. Hey, who wouldn't love reading about Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones, the lovechild daughter between England and America who falls for Australia? Let's just conveniently forget the fact that countries really couldn't have children, unless you counted their binary fission-like spawning of new nation-states (or the converse, where several smaller states coalesce into a bigger nation-state like the unifications of Germany and Italy) a form of National Reproduction. It's all a technical aspect, since as humans they could probably get away with popping out kids. But then let's not forget that the personifications of England and America are both _males_, and it's biologically impossible for men to have children. Pregnant Man was just an anomaly.

But back to the girl. "This is gonna be the best fic ever!" she exclaimed, clicking the save button and logging in onto Fanfiction. Guidelines… Accept guidelines. Biggest lie ever, but moving on. Upload Documents. New Story. Category: Hetalia Axis Powers. Characters: England and America. Rating: M. Language: English. Summary: Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones and Australia luv story! Read and review I suck at summeries!

Submit Story. As soon as she clicked on that, her computer froze.

"Dammit, why is the button not working?" the girl screeched, nearly waking her parents upstairs. She pounded the keyboard in frustration. "Work, damn you, work!"

"You know, that computer's not going to be any nicer to you if you hit it," a soft voice said from behind her. The girl spun around, seeing a blond man with a stray curl on his head. The man waved at her shyly, his violet eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"You're America!" exclaimed the girl.

"No, I'm Canada," the man said with a sigh, as he held up a polar bear. The girl squealed.

"Eee, is that Kumajiro? Can I hold him?" Canada shook his head, so the girl pouted. "Why not?"

"He doesn't like strangers, eh," Canada replied. "Well, anyways, I'm here to give you your letter."

"Letter?" echoed the girl. "What do you mean?"

"You've been accepted at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction," the Canadian explained as he pulled out a letter. It was shaded the ugliest shade of red and blue – it was as if red and blue had been forced to mix but didn't quite form purple. "Oh, the colour? That's Bled, our school colour. Yeah, it's awful, isn't it? I think Arthur and Kiku created that over the summer. It's not my fault, eh!" He handed the Bled-coloured envelope to the girl, who opened it nervously.

It read:

_The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction_

_Dear Fanwriter,_

_ We are not quite pleased to announce that you have been chosen to attend the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. This is a – yes, you guessed it – international organisation geared towards teaching you and your dim-witted peers how to write good fanfiction for the Hetalia fandom. Passing this university is mandatory if you wish to receive a license to write more Hetalia fanfiction._

_ IAHF offers a variety of courses, all taught by the characters of Hetalia. Do not irritate the staff, because they will be aided in their duties, academic or otherwise, by a troupe of Mochi Nations. If you do not heed this warning, don't say I didn't tell you. Please fill out the attached form and sign the waiver, and I hope I will not see your face at IAHF tomorrow._

_From,_

_Allen Clarke/Hugh Fraser,_

_Course Coordinator_

The letter and the attached forms were all in Bled as well, causing the girl to cringe. Matthew shrugged, sitting down on the sofa next to her desk. Kumajiro crawled out of his arms and toddled off in search of the kitchen.

The girl grabbed her favourite aqua-blue gel pen and started filling out the form.

**YOU, AS A STUDENT**

**Name:** Jennifer Faye Chang, but I go by Lily

**Gender:** Female

**Species:** Human! But I wanna be a Nation! It'd be so awesome!

**Age:** 16

**Physical Description:** Well, I'm short and I'm Asian and I have glasses.

**Languages you speak:** English, and a bit of French

**What languages do you want to learn?** Eeee, I wanna learn how to speak in a British accent and I wanna learn German, Italian, and Japanese!

**Do you have any fears/phobias/allergies/worst nightmares that we should be aware of?** I'm allergic to stupidity, teehee.

**Have you been to an OFU before?** What's that?

**Have you heard of the PPC before?** I heard they were totally mean! And someone threatened me with them before, too!

**List ONE luxury item to take with you:** My British flag!

**YOU, IN RELATION TO THE CANON**

**On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being 'dimwit who's only there for the hot guys kissing' and 10 being 'total applied history geek', how well acquainted are you with the Hetalia canon?** Uh, what's canon? I think I'm a 5.

**Do you watch the anime, read the manga, or both?** Both, if they have England in them!

**Have you played Gakuen Hetalia?**Ew, no! Seychelles is such a bitch!

**English dub: Yay or Nay? **Ewww I don't like England's voice in that! It should've been someone way hotter!

**If you watch the anime, do you watch it raw or subbed? **Subbed, of course! I can't understand Japanese!

**If you read the manga, do you read it raw or translated? **Translated, see above!

**YOU, IN RELATION TO YOUR WORK**

**Why do you write Hetalia fanfiction? **Cuz I luv England so much!

**Who is your favourite character and/or lust object? Why? **ENGLAND, CUZ HE'S TOTALLY HAWT

**Who is your least favourite character? Why? **Seychelles is such a bitch! I hate her D:

**Have you written het? What was the pairing, and why? **Ewww, straight couples are grosss! :P

**Have you written slash? What was the pairing, and why? **OMG USUK ALL THE WAY THEY'RE PERFECT TOGETHER FOREVER!

**Have you written a Mary Sue? **What's a Mary Sue?

**What types of fanfiction do you usually write? **Romance, totally. =w=b

**Which pairings do you usually write? **USUK! ALL OTHER PAIRINGS CAN JUST GO SCREW THEMSELVES, LOL NOT REALLY BUT STILL~

**Least favourite pairings? Why? **Asakiku is like totally gross cuz Japan totally belongs with Greece I mean what?

**Have you tried to write poetry? **Yeah, it was like really cool and stuff. I wrote it when I was depressed, lol!

**MISCELLANEOUS QUESTIONS**

**Turkey or Greece? **Turkey, all the way! That beard… mmmmm~

**America or England? **ENGLAND! GOOOOO ENGLAND!

**Who cooks the best? **TOTALLY FRANCE, EVEN THOUGH HE'S ALL EWWWW.

**France: pervert or misunderstood? **Ew, he's a bed intruder!

**Bad Friends Trio or FrUK family? **BAD FRIENDS TRIO FOREVERRRRR

**Denmark or Prussia? **PRUSSIA! HELL YEAH!

**North Italy or South Italy?** North Italy! He's so cute~

**PERMISSION FORM TO ATTEND IAHF**

_By signing below, I hereby waive my rights to sue IAHF for any damages inflicted upon me during my tenure on their campus. I will now resign myself for a very long and gruelling year of terror, hatred, and fear as I Learn Through Pain how to write good, or decent, or semi-decent, or meh-ish, or at the very least comprehensible Hetalia: Axis Powers fanfiction. If the staff members or the Mochis kill, traumatise, maim, or otherwise injure me in any way, I will not sue them because by signing here I acknowledge that any sort of harm inflicted upon my person is only for my own good and I deserve it because of my own stupidity and irrationality. IAHF takes no responsibility for injuries gained from class activities. I will not bring forth international laws or attempt to contact the United Nations or Amnesty International; being a foolish fanbrat, I probably have no idea what they are in the first place. I can complain to Mr. Allen/Hugh, but he will just laugh at me and send me back for more._

_By signing this waiver, I put myself into the hands of the IAHF staff, even though I am probably not reading this because I am a foolish fanbrat and I am only agreeing to this just to see my lust objects or attempt to canon-ise my favourite ships. I will now waive all personal rights granted to me under my Nation's constitution and under the United Nation's Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The staff of IAHF are hereby given the right to do to me as they see fit, which includes but is not limited to mental and emotional abuse, torture, and death. This contract will be legally binding the moment I sign this, and I will not be allowed to leave IAHF until I pass my courses and obtain my license. I can attempt to drop out, but that will be a lengthy bureaucratic process involving mountains of red tape, and Mr. Allen/Hugh will not appreciate me inundating him with more paperwork so he will not agree to drop me unless I provide a particularly good case. This contract will not break even in the event of my death, because the Academy will most likely be able to resurrect me._

_(Of course, all of this is probably going over your head, because it's just a big wall of text and we are not providing you with a tl;dr below. You're probably too busy anticipating being taught by your lust object, so you'll just automatically sign on the space provided, unaware of the fact that you just gave us your soul. Thank you for making this a very efficient and painless procedure.)_

_From, Mr. Allen Clarke/Hugh Fraser, Course Coordinator_

Like a good brainless teenager, Jennifer's eyes quickly glazed over as she skimmed the contract, not paying attention to it at all as she tried to find the spot to sign. She quickly located the dotted line underneath the contract, scrawling her name onto it without a second thought. It glowed Bled for a few minutes, before fading back to its usual glittery aqua-blue.

"Is that all?" she asked, handing the papers back to Matthew with a yawn. Kumajiro had reappeared with a salmon head in his mouth; it was dripping salmon bits all over the sofa. Jennifer cringed, before yawning again.

"Just sleep, then. You might need it for tomorrow," Matthew advised with half a smile, before he disappeared.

Jennifer needed no further encouragement as she blinked at the spot where the Canadian had been a few moments ago. Yawning widely, she padded over to the sofa, laid down, and closed her eyes.

She wouldn't be getting that much sleep later on, after all.


	2. Mochis, Stampedes, and Ship Wars

**Notes:** In case you're curious, I am going to be using human names most of the time. Also, if you spot any Mochis lurking around elsewhere, kindly report them to me! Also, a thank-you to PPC Boarder Something Blue for pointing out a very special Danish Mochi from the first chapter: Demark. Say hello, Demark! And for those people eager to catch the mistake... well, it's fixed now.

**Part II**

The new Academy was housed in a building that looked like a cross between the World Academy W and the Nations' meeting place. "It's like two of the worst buildings in the world mixed into one," the Briton had remarked wryly as he handed out maps of the new Staff Section to the other Nations.

"Just be glad we didn't incorporate any U.N. buildings, Arthur," Mr. Allen replied coolly.

"What do you mean? We've got that circle of flags outside and the circular meeting room. Next thing you know, Pirate me will be dragging his pirate ship in." Arthur Kirkland scowled at the thought, throwing the next map at the American's head as he walked by.

"Hey, Artie! That's not nice!" The American exclaimed, pouting.

"Don't pay attention to him, Alfred; he's on his period," the Frenchman joked from across the hallway, causing Arthur to race down the hallway and attack him.

"_Stop the fighting_, Arthur and Francis! We don't need another Hundred Year's War on our hands!" Mr. Allen exclaimed as Workbitch dove into the fray and pulled the two Nations apart. "Look, the students are arriving in ten minutes. Can we all just pretend to get along for the orientation?"

There were some grumblings from Arthur, Francis, and pretty much everyone else in the vicinity. Mr. Allen took a couple of deep breaths. "All right," he said. "Ludwig, do you have the Mochis?"

"Ja, right here," the German said as he opened a door that appeared to lead into a storage closet. But on closer inspection, the storage closet somehow seemed much roomier than it should be, and it was full of white blobs.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Arthur demanded, pointing to the nearest blob. It sported thick brows, green eyes, and a surly expression.

Mr. Allen bent down and picked it up. "This, Mr. Kirkland, is a Mochi Nation. Say hello to Ingland." Ingland scowled.

"Wait, that sounds like 'England'…" Arthur muttered, frowning. "It's misspelled, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Yes, Mochi Nations are spawned when someone misspells a character's name. It can be either their Nation name or their human name, and it can occur in any language," explained Mr. Allen. "For example, this is Fransu." A Mochi that sported a blond goatee bounced over to its namesake, carrying a rose.

"What about the historical figures?" Francis asked as Fransu nuzzled his leg. "Like Jeanne d'Arc and Napoleon?"

"Oh, we do seem to have one named Napolean," Ludwig remarked bitterly. "Aside from the French Mochis, it doesn't seem to like any other Europeans. I think it was trying to take over Prusia the last time I saw it."

"And we also have Joane of Arc here," Mr. Allen added, pointing to a Mochi clad in armour clanking out of the storage closet. "Well, in any case, these little buggers are going to protect you from the fangirls. Or fanboys, if there are any."

"How are they supposed to protect us?" Seychelles, who seemed to change her human name on a weekly basis, asked as she leaned against a door next to a Hungarian woman named Elisabeta Héderváry. "I mean, they look really cute… but I don't see – eek!" She didn't finish her sentence, because Fransu had just expanded to thirty times its size and blobbed onto its namesake.

"The Mochi's primary form of attack is blobbing," Ludwig explained with the air of a high school biology teacher, as the rest of the Nations laughed at Francis's misfortune. "It attaches itself to its victim and expands to cover their body in a sticky white cocoon of rice paste and various crème fillings. However, you cannot eat a Mochi, because the filling is poisonous. The lettuce it eats as part of its diet is actually especially prepared with milkweed poison and Mary Sue Glitter."

"It also likes eating raw bacon and eggs," Mr. Allen added as he pulled out a document from a nearby plothole. "See, the Document of Mini-Creature Care. One universal characteristic of the Mini is its peculiar liking for raw foods, especially bacon, eggs, and fangirls."

"Raw fangirls?" several Nations echoed. Ludwig nodded, closing the door to the storage closet.

Mr. Allen smirked as Francis emerged from the Mochi cocoon, gasping and cursing as he attempted to extricate bits of Fransu from his clothing. "Raw fangirls," he repeated to himself.

"The fangirls have arrived!" someone exclaimed. A young man with red hair and freckles charged into the hallway, looking excited and exhausted. "Mr. Allen, sir, the students are here!"

"Excellent. Thank you, Shinbun-kun." Mr. Allen took out another document. This one was rolled up and bore a seal with a symbol of a potted cactus on it; it was the infamous Document of Character Deportation. "Let the learning begin."

* * *

The first thing Jennifer noticed was that she wasn't in Kansas anymore. Well, she hadn't been in Kansas in the first place, but repeating Wizard of Oz lines seemed very fitting for the moment.

She was standing outside a very odd building. It was as if the architect of the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction campus had received two sets of instructions: one telling him or her to build it like the World Academy, and the other telling him or her to build it like the building where the World Meetings take place. Maybe someone from the U.N. had dropped in halfway through and added his or her own details to the blueprints, too.

"Look at all these flags!" she heard someone exclaim. "I can name, like, so many of these!"

"Shut up, Karin, I'm trying to sleep!" someone else hollered back. The girl named Karin pouted and walked over to another group of girls who seemed to be bent over someone's laptop.

"What's going on?" Jennifer demanded as she walked over to the laptop group. The girl who was using the laptop had short curly blonde hair and was glaring at the screen.

"It won't work!" Laptop girl screeched, slamming her hand onto the keys. "It was working perfectly fine five minutes ago!"

"I think I have the same problem as you, Laurel," another girl with her brown hair in a ponytail piped up as she waved her laptop slightly. "Mine was perfectly fine, but then it just shut down."

There were murmurs throughout the little crowd of students. "Do you think there's something set up that prevents us from using laptops here?" the girl named Laurel asked. "Like… something magical?"

"Why would you say that?" a girl with a purple horn on her head demanded. "My smart phone better be working…" she hissed as she whipped out her luxury item.

There was a scream from another girl across the quad. She was standing underneath the Prussian flag, looking horrified.

"What is this?" she screeched. "I asked for my iPod, not a pea pod!"

Despite the fact that it was horrendously cruel to laugh at someone else's misfortune, Jennifer couldn't help but snigger quietly to herself. The horned girl seemed to be on her train of thought, because she was shaking with silent laughter. Other students, however, had rushed to the pea pod girl, their eyes wide in disbelief.

"At least it plays music?" another girl with a Ukraine-like chest asked with a weak giggle, as she held up her own pea pod. Hers seemed to be playing "Marukaite Chikyuu". "I think I'm going to get sick of this song by the time we're through."

Jennifer held her British flag protectively to her chest. Indeed, it seemed as if it was going to be a long year…

A voice suddenly boomed out of the loudspeakers attached to the flags and trees. "ALL STUDENTS REPORT TO THE GENERAL MEETING ROOM FOR THE ORIENTATION NOW, UNDER PAIN OF BLOBBING."

"Blobbing?" Jennifer demanded, as the group of students started heading over to the buildings. "And where's the General Meeting Room?"

Her questions were quickly answered as a scream rose from the end of the group. Catalysed, the students rushed into the first building, located the General Meeting Room (not a tough task, as it sported the biggest doors with the biggest plaques next to it), and took their seats.

Moments later, two girls straggled in late plucking white bits from their clothing. "What the fuck was that?" one of them complained. Jennifer recognised her as the horned girl. "I thought I was here to be a tutor!"

"Well, we lied," a calm, masculine voice resounded. A tall man with blond hair was sitting at the head of a panel, looking imperious in his sharply cut business suit. "It got you to sign the form, didn't it?"

"I was being threatened by several lawyers!" the girl exclaimed.

"Tough beans," the man replied with a smirk. "Get in your seat, Miss Escatara. You too, Miss Megan."

The other girl, who seemed to be grey with black hair and multicoloured eyes (well, Jennifer thought it was multicoloured because she couldn't tell what colour it was at any given moment. The girl's eye colour changed from pink to purple to green to blue and back again in the time frame of three seconds, after all) stuck her nose in the air and flounced to her seat. Once seated, she continued to pluck sticky white bits from her hair and clothing.

"Some of you seem to have already met our Mochi Nations, it seems," the blond man said amusedly. Sitting with him on the panel were several other characters. Jennifer strained to see England and his familiar thick eyebrows. He didn't seem to be present. "Like I said in the letter, don't say I didn't warn you."

"You!" screeched Miss Escatara, standing up dramatically and pointing her finger at the man. "You're the Course Coordinator!"

"Yes, I'm Mr. Allen," the man replied pleasantly.

"Or Mr. Hugh, depending on the day of the week," chipped in another man with dark, slicked-back hair.

"Yes, or Mr. Hugh," conceded Mr. Allen. "I will be overseeing your classes from time to time, but for the time being allow me to introduce you to your teachers." He gestured to the rest of the panel. "If you cannot recognise any of these people, you're a pitiful excuse for a fanbrat. And that's saying something."

"Hey! That's not nice!" someone exclaimed from the back of the room.

"I never said I was a nice person." Mr. Allen smirked. "Now, here are some very important rules for IAHF. I don't think you'll listen, but if you don't… well, you might be facing some painful consequences. I really don't know how to make it any clearer. First rule: no glomping the canon characters."

"Can we glomp you, then?" a boy asked from the first row, looking eager. Mr. Allen sent him an incredulous look.

"No, Mr. Tenterden. Don't be ridiculous. Second rule: no stampeding the canon characters. And before you ask, Mr. Tenterden, you may not stampede me, either."

"Who'd want to stampede him? He's evil!" a girl whispered in the row in front of Jennifer.

"Third rule," continued Mr. Allen, "no writing fanfiction unless instructed to do so by the staff. This is the main reason why your laptops are not working. Same goes for the note and internet functions on your smart phones."

"But what about iPods?" the girl who had been standing next to the Prussian flag asked, holding up her pea pod. "I asked for my music player, not a music-playing pea pod!"

"He was in Hugh mode when he was doing the papers," the man with the slicked-back hair explained. "He's technologically backwards when he's in Hugh mode."

"No, I let Sealand do the customs," Mr. Allen snapped, his cheeks colouring bright pink. "Moving on. Fourth rule: absolutely no sneaking into the Staff Section." There were very audible complaints about that. "Hey, hey. We don't want to be raped in our sleep, okay? Yes, I'm glaring at you, Tenterden."

"What about France, then?" another girl demanded. "Will our dormitories be off-limits to him?"

"Pooh-pooh, as if I'd have anything to do _avec vous_," snapped a clearly affronted Frenchman from his spot on the panel.

"I wouldn't say that so fast if I were you – and believe me, I'm glad I'm not," a clearly British voice resounded from behind a screen of sorts. Jennifer's vision focused on the screen. Her One True Love was sitting _there_! Right there! She only had to get past Mr. Allen and the other staff members…

"Er, you're drooling," the girl next to her whispered. Jennifer jerked herself out of her trance and wiped the drool from her mouth.

A sigh had rippled through several members of the audience at the sound of that Sexy British Accent. Mr. Allen waited a bit longer, and then started to speak again.

"Now, Mr. Arthur Kirkland has consented to give out timetables and maps –" he barely finished that sentence before a cheer rose from several of the girls, Jennifer included. "Er, yes. Calm down, people. Um, Arthur? If you will?"

The room fell deathly silent as a man walked out from behind the screen. He carried a stack of papers in his hands, and wore a green military uniform. His golden hair was unruly, his eyes shone emerald green, and he had a pair of extremely thick eyebrows.

Arthur Kirkland barely set the papers down before several fangirls – Jennifer included – rose to their feet and stormed the podium.

* * *

"Wake up, bitch!" someone screamed into Jennifer's right ear, and the Asian girl's eyes shot open to see the girl with the amazing Technicolor eyes. "You're gonna be late for dinner if you don't hurry!"

"And since when do you care if I miss dinner or not?" Jennifer grumbled as she clambered out of bed. She appeared to be in a standard dormitory room, with her British flag draped over the bedspread like a patriotic quilt. Megan, the colourful-eyed girl shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not eating anything. They apparently let England cook."

"OH MY GOD!" Jennifer screamed, nearly bowling the other girl over in her rush out the door. Now, to find the dining hall…

She eventually located it between the classrooms and the dormitories. There were several girls gathering outside the doors to the dining hall, some of them looking green.

"What's on the menu?" Jennifer asked one of them. The girl in question had leaves sprouting out of her head and a slight orange tinge to her skin. "And what the hell is wrong with you?"

The girl looked affronted. "I put carrot on my enrolment form," she replied waspishly. "As a joke."

"But I think Sealand took you seriously," the African-American girl next to her remarked with a grin. "Serves you right, Lydia."

"I SAID 'JUST KIDDING'!" Lydia bawled.

"Hey, at least they didn't turn you into a carrot. You know Megan? The one with the colourful eyes? She's an alien; she put that on her enrolment form. That's why she looks like Tony."

"You're not helping, Tori!"

"Hey, what's on the menu?" Jennifer repeated. The African-American girl named Tori held up what looked to be a glowing piece of charcoal. "What the bloody hell is that?"

"A scone," Tori replied with a grin. "They let England into the kitchen."

"Horror upon horrors, right?" chipped in Lydia, who was rocking back and forth. She turned away and started muttering something about never putting 'carrot' down for species ever again.

Jennifer entered the cafeteria, and for a moment, she thought she had stepped into World War Three. The scones certainly looked radioactive enough.

"USUK!" someone screamed from the table that had been designated as "North America", if the flags hanging over it were of any indication. "Take that, you evil FrUKers!" A barrage of scones flew towards the table marked "Europe".

"Well, FrUK you, USUKers!" someone else screamed from the European table as more scones flew back.

"What's going on?" Jennifer demanded, stopping a boy with curly brown hair and glasses. The boy looked mildly panicked at her grabbing his arm and he quickly wrested himself from her grasp.

"Don't touch me! I'm allergic to just about everything!" he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses and peering at her. "And the shippers are holding a ship war. USUK versus FrUK. Tomorrow it's RusAmerica versus RoChu."

"Looks like a food fight to me," Jennifer muttered, part of her itching to join the battle.

"I'm allergic to these scones. I'm going back to my dormitory to reread my World History textbook." The boy nodded at her. "See you around." He then left the room, leaving Jennifer to forage her way through splattered scones in the search of something edible.

"Don't worry, tomorrow's menu is beef stroganoff!" someone shouted cheerfully from the South American table as Jennifer looked at the giant whiteboard that said "TODAY'S MENU: SCONES" in bold black lettering. Well, since beef stroganoff was a Russian dish, Jennifer had an idea of how the food fight schedules worked out.

The only problem was, she really was quite hungry.

* * *

"This is more amusing than I thought it would be," Arthur snickered as the staff members watched the fanstudents from Elisabeta's surveillance system. To the side, Alfred and Francis were making tallies and taking bets from the rest of the Nations.

"Well, it's all thanks to Kiku's cameras," Elisabeta said cheerfully, patting the Japanese man on the back. Kiku blushed but said nothing.

"Speaking of your cameras, Kiku, I found several of them in my shower the other day," the Briton commented offhandedly, causing the Japanese man to turn an even brighter shade of red. "I hope those pictures that you end up getting will not fall into the fanstudents' hands."

"Does that mean that we get to look at them, Artie?" Alfred called from the tallying whiteboard. Francis sniggered.

"What's the scheduled fight for tomorrow again, Luddy?" Italian Feliciano Vargas asked as he ate a platter of pasta.

"Ivan and Alfred shippers versus Ivan and Yao shippers," Ludwig immediately listed. "I heard them talking about it at the beginning of dinner. Since pasta is next up after beef stroganoff, I suspect your pairings will be involved in Wednesday's fight."

"Oh, come on! When are they going to fight over the awesome me?" Prussian Gilbert Beilschmidt demanded as he popped into the room with a paper. "Hey, Mr. Allen, something for you."

"Is it another dispatch?" the Course Coordinator demanded in a British accent. The other characters looked at each other – Mr. Allen must have undergone his personality change already. "List the organisation, Gilbert."

"You can do that yourself, that's too unawesome for the awesome me," Gilbert replied flippantly, throwing the document at the Course Coordinator's head. Mr. Allen – now Mr. Hugh – took the document and read it.

"Ah, it's worse than I thought," he said with a frown.

"What's wrong, Hugh?" Arthur asked.

But Mr. Hugh looked up with an uneasy smile on his face. "Nothing that you should worry about, sir." His hands gripped the document so tightly that his knuckles shone white. "Nothing at all."


	3. Not Your Average Schoolday

**Notes:** Temporarily closing registration while I get everyone squared out (unless you're planning to give me a troll, a male, or a Mary Sue student. I need more of them). A quick bit of advice: if your student gets beaten up at any point in the year, don't take it personally. Anything you put on the enrolment form is fair game.

**Part III**

The first lesson that Jennifer had for Tuesday was "Axis Powers: Canon 101" with Ludwig Beilschmidt, Feliciano Vargas, and Kiku Honda. It was scheduled for ten in the morning, so she thought that she could sleep in.

She was sorely mistaken.

"Up, up! Get up, you lazy-ass fangirls! Report to the stadium, you dumbfucks! Up!" a cranky voice screeched at four in the morning, rudely jolting Jennifer out of a graphic dream involving her, England, and several cans of whipped cream.

"It's four in the morning!" she protested as she squinted at the alarm clock.

"I don't give a fuck! I'm only doing this because that potato-sucking Kraut told me to!" Lovino Vargas, looking grouchier than usual, poked his head back out of the room and stormed down the hall, followed by a troupe of equally grouchy Mochis.

"Was that Lovino Vargas?" someone across the hall demanded. "I LOVE YOU, LOVI!"

"He just flipped you the bird!"

"YOU'RE JUST IN DENIAL, LOVI! SOMEDAY YOU'LL REALISE YOUR LOVE FOR ME AND WE'LL GET MARRIED, MARRIED, MARRIED!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes and looked over at the other bed in the room. Megan the alien was sleeping there, mumbling something about Spain's ass in her dreams.

Smirking evilly, Jennifer walked over and shook her violently. "WAKE UP, BITCH!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. Revenge was sweet.

Megan screamed, her eyes snapping wide open. "What the bloody hell was that for?" she demanded angrily, grabbing a sparkly pink jacket and putting it on. "Why'd you wake me at goddamn four in the morning?"

"Lovino just told us to go to the stadium. Apparently they're starting the morning lesson early."

"Way too early," Megan groused, rolling her currently purple eyes. "What's for breakfast?"

"I dunno, leftover scones?"

"Ew."

They headed down the corridor. Being situated on the third floor, they had to take three flights of stairs down. Apparently, last night the elevators broke because America had been running into them, pressing all the buttons, and running back out. No one had been able to get into an elevator since then.

Speaking of America…

"Communist bastard!"

"Capitalist pig!"

"Cruel, heartless freakazoid!"

"Hamburger-brained idiot!"

"Do they really have to argue about who's the better superpower at four in the morning?" Tori, the African-American girl who had been talking to Lydia last night, complained as Jennifer and Megan caught up with her and Lydia on the way to the stadium. "I mean, I like RusAmerica… but seriously?"

"You like RusAmerica?" Megan demanded. "Ew!"

Jennifer immediately smelled a ship war brewing. "Hey. Save that for dinner."

"Did you hear?" a girl named Kitty whispered conspiratorially as she joined them. "These two girls who live on the fourth floor, Celeste and Hotaru, were caught trying to sneak into the Staff Section yesterday."

"Already?" Jennifer demanded, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"They didn't even make it halfway before Endland and murika caught them."

"And then what happened?" Lydia asked.

Kitty lowered her voice until it was almost impossible to hear her. "They were sent to Auchwits."

A shudder ran through the group.

"At least they didn't go to the Golag," reasoned Jennifer.

"But that's still horrible!"

"What if they die?"

"Wait, what's the Golag?" one of the several girls named Alexandria asked as they passed by. "And are you guys talking about the girls who tried to sneak in?"

"Yeah, everyone heard it from Shinbun-kun, didn't they? He was running around the dormitories yelling about it at midnight," one of the other Alexandrias pitched in. "And the Golag is Auchwits's insane Russian twin."

"But what are they exactly?"

"Mochi-run concentration camps," Jodie Smith replied. "I heard Russia and Germany talking about them after the orientation." They were at the stadium now, where several other students were already assembled. A contingent of German, Italian, and Japanese Mochis surrounded their namesakes. The Japanese ones looked particularly agitated and had their katanas out (Jennifer had no idea how a blob could wield a katana, but she wasn't going to test them. The katanas looked _really, really_ sharp).

"Nihon-sama is looking particularly sexy in his training outfit today," a girl mumbled from somewhere within Jennifer's earshot. The Asian Anglophile was pretty sure it was that demon girl that Megan had talked about last night, the one obsessed with Japan.

"You're an idiot, Lucy. Germany looks way hotter," Karen DuLay retorted as she walked by. Jennifer shook her head. Silly fangirls, didn't they know that England was always going to be the hottest Nation around, no matter what?

"Well, Germany really isn't looking too bad this morning," Megan pointed out, and Jennifer realised that she had said her thoughts out loud. Well, she did tend to space out… "And everyone knows he bottoms to Prussia."

"Fuck no, Germany tops!" Karen retorted. "But of course, he's just a big softie, so he's one of those gentle semes. So dreamy…"

Apparently, Ludwig wasn't in a 'big softie' mood, because he chose that moment to bark "GUTEN TAG!" at the top of his lungs to catch the students' attentions. It worked. "I am Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"And I'm Feliciano Vargas, ve…" Feliciano added shyly. Several girls fainted.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Kiku Honda." Jennifer thought she heard something dripping; when she turned around, she saw Lucy, the Japan fangirl, creating a sizeable puddle of drool around her.

"Ew," she muttered, stepping away from the puddle before it reached her shoes.

Ludwig was speaking again. "Your timetables say that our class begins at ten. This is true – for the classroom portion. From now on, we will dedicate five hours in the morning to physical training! This will happen every week when you take our class! Understood?" There were several nods, most of them scared. "Gut! Now, the training begins! Line up!"

Chaos broke out as everyone scrambled to get into lines. As she avoided being elbowed (or being gored by Emmanuella Escatara, as the case may be) by other students, Jennifer glimpsed the demonic Japan fangirl disappearing into the crowd around her lust object.

Moments later, a scream rose from the students closest to Kiku Honda and his Mochis. Jennifer looked at Megan, who shrugged.

"Must be Lucy," the alien girl said noncommittally. "Attempting to get past Japan's Mochis again. I don't see why she even bothers. Japan's so boring."

"Hey, he's got a rich history. Don't diss the lurk!" Kriss Kross snapped from three places away. How she overheard, Jennifer had no idea.

"But what if the lurk killed your grandfather, huh?" Anastasia Debby retorted.

"Silence!" Ludwig thundered. The students fell silent. "We will begin your training with a mile run."

Unsurprisingly, people groaned. "I'm not athletic!" someone complained.

"But apparently your characters can run from Spain to Russia in three hours," Kiku pointed out innocently, "so why can't you?" His expression was cheerful and placid, despite the blood all over his uniform.

"Looks like he took his frustrations out on Lucy," Anastasia commented snidely. "Poor girl."

"Hey! My character didn't – " the student who complained started to say, but Ludwig had blown a whistle and the Mochis were starting to advance. Jennifer – and a good portion of the other students – thought that that was a very good indication for them to run.

"If you don't finish in less than eight minutes, you'll have to run again!" Ludwig called from behind as the students started running laps around the stadium, all of them desperate to avoid blobbing.

Mochis really made great motivators.

* * *

Hours later, an entire contingent of tired and hungry fanstudents swamped the cafeteria and scarfed down their breakfasts, rushing to get to their first class on time.

"Everyone has Canon 101 this morning?" Jennifer asked as she got up from her seat at the North America table (where a huge group of USUK shippers were sitting, glaring daggers at the FrUK shippers at the Europe table). There were nods.

"Did you see the size of the textbook? Why is Germany so evil to us?" Eva Danielson complained as she sliced open the remnants of a scone and slathered the innards with jam.

Jennifer shuddered at the prospect of carrying that textbook around. She had originally thought that the book, almost the size of her bed, had been for all of her classes. A doleful Megan had then reported that it was only for the Canon 101 class.

At least Prussia was teaching German. Jennifer wasn't sure if she wanted to have Ludwig as her teacher for more than one class.

"My textbook was in German, too," Kitty pointed out as she passed by. "Who else has a German Canon 101 textbook?"

Several hands were raised. "Mine was in French," Megan called from the Europe table.

"So was mine," Lydia added.

"Mine was in Japanese!" the recently resurrected Lucy piped up from the Asia table. "That's Kiku's tongue, you know. Mm, Kiku's tongue…" After that statement, several students at the Asia table shot nervous looks at each other and scooted away.

"Well, mine was in Japanese as well. How the hell am I supposed to read it? I can't even read the original Hetalia manga!" Alexandria Russell complained.

Jennifer frowned. "You know what? I bet the language of our Canon 101 textbooks corresponds to the language we're supposed to learn. I mean, my textbook's in German and I'm supposed to take German."

There was a long silence after her observation, finally broken by Emmanuella Escatara. "They're evil!" she declared. "First, they threaten to sue me if I don't attend. Then, they lie about my position at the school and give me a purple horn. Now my textbook's in German. I swear, I am so suing them if I ever get out of here alive!"

The door to the dining hall banged open at that moment, and a cheer rose up from the America and Russia fangirls as their respective Lust Objects stormed in with their Mochis trailing behind.

Ivan Braginski seemed to have heard Emmanuella's complaints, because he flashed a disturbing smile at her. "I think we have your contract on file, da?" he asked innocently. "You can't sue us, you know. You signed it."

"At gunpoint," she retorted.

Ivan shrugged. "Makes it a whole lot easier, doesn't it?" Some of the Ivan fangirls looked ready to stampede him, so the Russian Mochis stacked on top of each other and glared at them.

"Back to the original topic!" Alfred F. Jones declared, drawing the attention of the fanstudents. "Ivan and I can't agree on who's the better superpower. So it's up to _you_ to decide!"

Bad idea. The room broke into chaos as students from the United States ganged up on their Russian counterparts in a shouting match. The others either picked sides or sat around rolling their eyes.

"Look, I said the direct approach wouldn't work," Ivan said calmly as he and Alfred watched the pandemonium.

"Like I was going to go with your torture idea!" Alfred exclaimed, scandalised.

"You didn't seem to object to torture before." Ivan coughed something that sounded like 'Abu Gharib and Guantanamo Bay', causing the American to bristle.

"I had no choice! It was either get the information or risk having people killed! I'm a hero!"

"Says you and what army?"

"Oh, you Commie bastard!"

"Capitalist pig!"

By the time the students looked around, Ivan and Alfred were gone, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from far away.

* * *

At ten o'clock, the students crowded into the Canon 101 classroom. All of them were sitting up straight and looking fearful, partly because of Ludwig's already established reputation but also because Mr. Allen – or was that Mr. Hugh now? He was speaking in a British accent – was standing outside cuddling Destchland with a scowl on his face.

If Ludwig had been 'irritated' earlier in the morning during training, then he was 'thoroughly pissed off' when he entered the classroom with Feliciano and Kiku at his heels. Jennifer thought that the increase in grumpiness might be because one of the few male students had tried to glomp him during training, causing the German Mochis to blob onto the student and drag him off to join Celeste and Hotaru at Auchwits.

"Ludwig-san just had his room nuked by Alfred-san and Ivan-san," Kiku explained apologetically as the thunderous German slammed his copy of the textbook onto the podium with a 'BANG' that caused half the room to jump. "We are extremely sorry for this inconvenience. Please, open your textbooks to page three hundred and ninety-four."

"The chapter on the Pact of Steel?" Franklin Mycroft Livingston, the male student who was allergic to everything, asked from his seat in the third row. "I read that last night."

"Your book's in German," Ludwig pointed out. "How did you read it?"

"I know Swiss German," Franklin replied. "So I was able to make sense of _at least_ seventy percent of the material."

There was a long silence, before Ludwig signalled Mr. Hugh over to whisper something about transferring Franklin to Rome's Latin class so that he would get a textbook that he couldn't read.

"Moving on," Kiku said briskly as Mr. Hugh left the room, Destchland bouncing along in his wake. "As Livingston-san just said, we are reading about the Pact of Friendship and Alliance between Germany and Italy today. This is one of the main plotlines of the Hetalia canon – if there really can be a plotline anywhere in the series – so pay attention."

There were complaints, naturally. "Can't we watch the anime instead? I mean, we can't even read our textbooks," someone grumbled from the back of the room.

"NEIN!" Ludwig barked, causing Feliciano to grab his trusty white flag and start waving it. "Part of the reason why you are here is because you can't be bothered to read a history textbook or even the Hetalia manga!" There were defensive noises from what Jennifer had mentally dubbed the Nerd Group on the right side of the lecture hall. "Within this class, you are expected to know what happens in the Hetalia canon and how it pertains to history and modern society. Your history class with Mr. Ivan Braginski –" here, he said Ivan's name almost sarcastically – "will cover the segments of history not mentioned in the canon."

Jennifer panicked. She had only cared for the segments of history that involved England and America together! What was she going to do?

If the expressions of the other shippers in the room indicated anything, then over half of the people in the room felt the same. Hoo boy.


	4. Being Philosophical

**Notes:** Wow, I didn't know I would get such enthusiastic feedback from everyone on this! For those people worried about political insensitivity with the Mochi Concentration Camps – it's not as bad as you think. The alternative is to have a Jew-hating Mochi running around trying to gas people – I think this is a safer option. Anyways, read on to see what happens to those hapless students in the camps.

**Part IV**

"We're not even out of the first week of school and we already have to read and summarise a chapter out of a textbook printed in a language we can't read?" Mitsuki Horenake complained as they trudged out of the Canon 101 classroom.

Already, the Nerd Group had bowled half of the student population over in their scramble for the library. Jennifer had only passed by the library, but she knew it took up three floors and housed over two million books, including one of the original copies of the _Communist Manifesto_ and Admiral Horatio Nelson's ship logs from the Battle of Trafalgar.

Naturally, when she entered the library after lunch and took a seat, she saw the Nerd Group eagerly perusing those ship logs. "They're obsessed," Scylla and Charybdis grumbled, jabbing a thumb at Karin Guarez and Tori Troutman, who were heatedly debating about the importance of the Battle of Trafalgar.

"Tell me about it," Azure, the catgirl student, sighed. She was rumoured to cough up fur balls very often, and to hiss and spit at anyone who might express any sort of interest in Austria. At the moment, she was busy trying to write a 'Symphony of Love' for her Lust Object, but it didn't seem to be working out as well as she had hoped.

Neira Henrietta suddenly appeared at their table with a giant puffin plushie. "You know what?" she declared. "Forget homework; it's not due until next week. I wanna get this puffin to Iceland. Anyone willing to help me?"

"Does this involve the Staff Section?" Jennifer asked hesitantly.

"Sure, yeah, I think," Neira replied, shrugging.

"Ooh! Sneaking into the Staff Section? Sounds like fun!" Megan exclaimed as she flounced over in her pink jacket. "I'm all for it, bro!" Jennifer took a moment to marvel at the bipolarity of her roommate. Megan was one of those people who could go from cranky bitch to hyper spaz in three seconds flat, it seemed. "Come on, Jennifoos, let's go!"

"Don't call me that!" Jennifer exclaimed, as several other people snickered. "And didn't you hear about Celeste and Hotaru?"

"Come on, bro, where's your sense of adventure?" the alien pouted. "We'll do it during dinner; tonight's food fight is RoChu versus RusAmerica and both of those ships suck."

"Hey! RusAmerica is perfectly legit!" Sally Cruz hollered from the neighbouring table.

"It's gross!" Megan yelled back.

"Save the fight for later!" Jennifer screeched, wanting to avoid another ship war.

Too late.

* * *

"I should've asked to bring an umbrella as my luxury item," Scylla complained as they emerged from the dining hall. The ship war that started in the library had boiled over into dinner, and no one had been safe from flying bits of beef stroganoff that night.

"Come on, Jennifoos," Megan exclaimed (she was covered in beef stroganoff, but she didn't seem to care). "Let's go to the Staff Section!"

"Where do you think it is?" Neira whispered excitedly, clutching her puffin. She had kept the puffin in her dorm room during dinner so that it wouldn't get covered in Russian food. "It's not on the maps we got."

"Well, then it's obviously the building that's on campus but not on the map," Megan replied. They set off, then, down several empty hallways and through several more empty classrooms. Outside, there came the sound of more explosions – obviously Alfred and Ivan were attempting to blow up the Academy in their spat over who was the biggest superpower.

"I wonder what happens if we make it," Jennifer said thoughtfully as they got closer and closer to the one building not pictured on their maps. The building in question was a canny reproduction of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation headquarters in Belgium (and rumour had it that Russia had protested the design because he wasn't part of NATO), patrolled by several Mochis.

"I wouldn't say that so fast if I were – aaugh!" Megan screamed as a bomb exploded right at their feet, creating a giant abyss. The three students quickly lost their balance.

"ICELAND I LOVE YOU!" Neira screamed, throwing the puffin towards the Staff Section as she, Megan, and Jennifer fell down into darkness.

* * *

"Oh dear. I seem to have made students fall into my abyss," Ivan Braginski commented in a tone of mock shock as the fangirls' screams grew more and more faint. "Looks like I won." Alfred seethed from where he stood with his own giant crack; his seemed to be painted red, white, and blue.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT ALFRED? OH MY GOD AMERICA I LOVE YOU!" several voices screamed and suddenly the America Adorers came charging out of nowhere, only to fall into Alfred's Heroic Abyss™. That caused the American in question to brighten up.

"Well, more students fell down mine!" he exclaimed. "So I think I win!"

Ivan's face turned an interesting shade of purple. "We'll have to think of another contest. See who can make Arthur's eyebrows grow the fastest?"

"You're on!"

* * *

When Jennifer woke up, she was in a subterranean room of some sorts, guarded by a thick-browed Mochi. Damn, she got caught.

"Hey, you got in here too?" Megan asked from the corner. "I think we landed in that Mochi concentration camp."

"Which one?" Neira asked, looking torn between hugging the Iceland Mochi guarding her and staying away to avoid getting blobbed.

"Auchwits," another voice resounded from the corner. A pale girl with freckles and blue eyes grinned at them. "Hey, I'm Hotaru-chan! And this is Celeste, but she's sleeping."

"You two tried to sneak in yesterday!" Megan exclaimed. "What do they do to you here?" Jennifer spotted a boy sleeping in another corner; he was pale and wore glasses.

"The Mochis make us babysit at the Mochi Spawning Pits when we're not in here. Sometimes we have to go clean out the beach, too."

"How can there be a beach down here?" Jennifer demanded.

"Plot holes," Celeste muttered sleepily as she opened an eye. "There's a You Won't Believe It's Not the Mediterranean Coast nudist beach down there, but sadly only the Mochis seem to use it. They blob all over the place. It's disgusting."

"How long are we going to stay here, again?" Jennifer wondered. "I mean, I really want to attend the Platonic Love class on Thursday."

"You stay for about a week or so, or at least that's what Mr. Allen said when he brought in food." Celeste shrugged.

Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck. Jennifer was mad at herself. Why did she agree to try and sneak into the Staff Section again? Now she was going to miss the first 'Platonic Love 101' class, and England and America were teaching that! Together!

"Well, life's a bitch and then you die," Megan said philosophically, and Jennifer made a mental note to stop saying her thoughts out loud.

* * *

Another day, another dispatch from the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. Mr. Hugh – now back to Mr. Allen – read the document quickly, his thick eyebrows almost meeting in a deep scowl. When he finished, he looked up to see a blue doorway form out of nowhere. An Agent walked through, looking slightly haggard.

She was obviously from another continuum, because her ears were pointed and she spoke in very formal and heavily accented English. "Am I addressing Mr. Hugh Fraser or Mr. Allen Clarke?" she asked, arching one fine eyebrow and scrutinising him with keen grey eyes.

"Allen," Mr. Allen replied, setting down the document and staring back at her. The Agent didn't flinch. "I just got your note, Ms. Elerossiel," he added, gesturing to the piece of paper. "So you are sure that the figures are accurate this time around?"

"Yes, the last time the figures were skewed because… _you know who_ hacked into the factory database."

"Why would your brainless clone do such a thing?" Allen wondered, folding his hands and observing her deadpan expression with an air of mild amusement. "Faking the number of Hetalia-verse Mary Sues created at that particular factory won't do anyone any good in the long run."

"Wait, I have more data," Ms. Elerossiel said briskly, handing him some more pieces of paper. "Look here. This factory started mass-producing fake Nations and overly perfect States in response. Same for this one. And this. I am afraid to say that we are looking at an arms race."

"I can tell," Mr. Allen replied, his face paling. "These factories seem to function like Nations. If one country doubles its military, the others feel threatened and start doing the same."

"Exactly." Ms. Elerossiel's expression was grave. "The Department of Mary Sue Experiments and Research are hoping to obtain a sample of what the Sues might carry as weapons. There are rumours that these Nation-tan Sues are designing specialised weapons that act like nuclear warheads, but send out the Vambiolaria virus instead of radiation when detonated."

Mr. Allen's eyebrows shot up. "Really," he said, his voice calm even though he was panicking inside. "But those are just rumours, right?"

"Rumours, for now." Ms. Elerossiel grabbed her Remote Activator and set up another nifty blue portal. "I will return to discuss this matter further. Right now, my partner will kill me if I do not return to our Response Centre in time."

"Have a safe trip, then. And good luck." Mr. Allen smiled.

Ms. Elerossiel smiled as well. "Clean your office. I see that your files are not in alphabetical order or colour-coded, and that your pencils are all different lengths. If I had more time, I would stay and help you clean. But… duty calls." She disappeared through the portal after that, leaving Mr. Allen in his untidy office.

Well, it was a lot tidier than the average overworked bureaucrat's office, but Mr. Allen knew that his PPC contact could make Roderich Edelstein look only mildly OCD. He grinned and picked up two pencils that were drastically different lengths.

"There's no way that I'm going to sharpen this one down to a stub just so you can alleviate your ataxophobia, Eledhwen," he muttered to himself amusedly. But the documents were still innocently sitting there out of the corner of his eye, so he set the pencils down and looked at the figures again.

His shoulders slumped. Being the primary intermediary between the canon characters and the fandom was tiring sometimes.

* * *

"And look, our absent students from last week have returned," Arthur Kirkland said snidely from his spot at the podium.

It was the second class of 'Platonic Love 101', and Jennifer found herself in a seat in the back of the lecture hall. Once again, she cursed herself for breaking the rules and getting caught. Especially that 'getting caught' part.

The entire class was split in half – people who liked USUK and people who didn't. People from both sides had slept outside the classroom the night before so they could get the best seats. One of the not-USUK campers was Shelby T. White, who had woken up to find herself surrounded by USUK fangirls squeeing their heads off. That was part of the reason why she was looking murderous; Jennifer was expecting her to start muttering 'kolkolkol' any minute.

Speaking of Jennifers, there was apparently another Jennifer on campus – one of the older students, with brown hair and glasses. Everyone called her Merka for some strange reason. In any case, Jennifer spotted Merka in the seat right in front of the podium, looking gleeful. Some of the England Mochis were eyeing her warily.

"All right!" Alfred exclaimed happily as he took out his laptop ("Why does he get to use his laptop?" complained half of the students in the room) and brought up a Power Point presentation. "I've got this really epic presentation on the difference between liking someone and _like liking_ someone!"

"And you and Iggy like like each other, right?" someone asked from the USUK section of the room.

"I plead the Fifth," Alfred said, with an expression of mock solemnity. "Just kidding, of course I do!"

"He's a liar," Arthur butted in. "He likes all the attention, the whiny little brat."

"But _Artie_!" pouted Alfred, causing several USUK fangirls to cheer. Some of them even began to chant 'KISS KISS KISS KISS' at the top of their lungs.

"Wipe that kicked puppy expression off your face and get the presentation up, you dumbass!" Arthur snapped. Cue a chorus of disappointed moans from the USUK fans.

"Fine!" the American opened Power Point and connected his computer to the projector; moments later, a picture of Chuck Norris appeared on the projection screen. "Lights, please!"

"What the bloody hell does Chuck Norris have to do with platonic love?" Arthur demanded, as several students snickered.

"He's just awesome, okay? And I wanted to put him in the presentation!" The lights dimmed. "All right! Let's get the show on the road!"

"PLATONIC VERSUS ROMANTIC LOVE," Arthur cut in loudly. "OR, THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LIKING TO SPEND TIME WITH SOMEONE AND WANTING TO SHAG THEIR BRAINS OUT."

"Cut the capslock, Artie, you're making my ears hurt," Alfred complained. "And it's my presentation!"

"Then what's with the picture of the dinosaur?" More laughter, as the picture of the dinosaur roared and handed out hearts.

"It's 'cause 'rawr' means 'I love you' in dinosaur, Artie!" Cue 'd'awww's from the USUK section.

"All right, all right. Moving on, then! The origin of the term 'platonic love', or _Amor platonicus_, comes from the Greek philosopher Plato," Arthur lectured, sending just about everyone except the Nerd Group and the England fangirls into an instant stupor. "Plato discusses love and friendship in the _Lysis_ and the _Symposium_. Here, he attributes his definition of love to the prophetess Diotima, because both of them believe that love – genuine platonic love – should be used to inspire one's mind and soul."

"Blah blah blah, that's all so boring, Artie," Alfred complained. "You guys, Plato basically defines love as this: you see someone hot, but instead of them making you horny, they inspire you to write poetry and stuff and you never get the urge to sleep with them."

"But that's impossible!" Sara Parker exclaimed from her seat in the non-USUK side of the classroom. "Whenever you see someone hot, you'll want to bone them _and_ write poetry about them!"

"You're not talking about my bro Mattie, right?" Alfred shot back, and Jennifer remembered hearing about how Sara had attempted to serenade Matthew Williams last Saturday, but confused Alfred's room for his.

"Err…" Jennifer was sure that if she cared to look, she could probably see a sheepish grin on Sara's face.

Arthur coughed loudly. "Moving on! Platonic love is now defined as a love in which someone cares for someone else because they share the same interests or they work together… or something else like that. All of this is emotional and spiritual, and most importantly, _non-erotic_. That means that a platonic couple doesn't spend time together because they're physically or sexually attracted to each other."

"Translated into American, that means you hang out with your best bud who you hang out with because you like hanging out with him or her, not because you want to jump his or her bones," Alfred added.

"Do you want to jump Iggy's bones?" someone asked.

There was a pause. "I plead the Fifth," Alfred repeated.

"Definitely moving on!" Arthur huffed, and even in the dim light, Jennifer could see tinges of pink on the Briton's cheeks. "On the other hand, romantic love is – oh bloody hell, Alfred, must you put a picture from _Titanic_ in here?"

"But-but-but that's romantic love, right?" Alfred asked innocently. "Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you," he began to sing, causing the USUK fangirls to go wild.

"SHUT UP, YOU GUYS!" Shelby T. White screeched from the non-USUK section.

"Yes, please, calm the fuck down," Arthur growled, causing several fangirls to squeal about him saying a dirty word. "No, seriously! Stop this! Endland, Igrysu, Angelterre, ATTACK!"

The squeals turned into screams as the British Mochis launched themselves at the fangirls.

* * *

"That class is my favourite," sighed Jennifer as they emerged from the Platonic Love classroom around noon for lunchtime.

"It's certainly the funniest," Huskie pointed out. Apparently he (she? it?) had put 'can't you tell?' on his (her? its?) enrolment form. Now no one had any idea what gender he (she? it?) was.

"Man, I can't believe I missed the first class of this," Hotaru sighed. "If I'd known! If only!"

"Serves you right," Mike Hawk sneered. Hotaru glared at him.

They entered the dining hall, taking seats at their respective tables. Jennifer found herself sitting next to Merka at the North America table, across from Sara Parker.

"How'd you get the best seat in the class?" Jennifer demanded. Merka grinned and flashed her a thumbs up.

"I've got my ways," she replied. "Hey, did you hear? Apparently Endland and murika are going out."

_The Mochis? Going out?_ Luna Fernández Correa overheard them. Rumour had it that she put down 'Fanfic Writer' for species on her enrolment form, so consequently whatever she wanted to say appeared in sparkly Bled letters above her head and flashed brightly for thirty seconds or so before fading. The same problem happened to Mirabelle, only amplified by her ability to attract other people's photographs and drawings like some strange picture magnet. After all, she was a 'Picture Taker'.

"Yeah! It's so cute! I wish Arthur and Alfred did the same," Merka said wistfully.

"Oh, give me a bloody break," Sara grumbled from across the table.

The doors opened, and Matthew Williams walked in, flanked by Cuba and Iceland. Matthew coughed, trying to catch everyone's attention.

"HEY YOU GUYS! SHUT UP AND PAY ATTENTION TO MATTHEW!" Cuba hollered, and everyone looked around to see them in the middle of the aisle (nicknamed the 'Atlantic Ocean'). The Iceland and Canada fangirls looked ready to stampede (but then again, every fangirl looked ready to stampede at the sight of her Lust Object), so Icyland and Canadia glared at them, preparing to blob if necessary.

"Th-thank you, Cuba," the Canadian stammered. "Er, hello. I'm here as the president and spokesperson of the Invisible Nations group, which is dedicated to recognising Nations that are rarely mentioned in canon."

"But we love you, Mattie!" several people yelled, causing Matthew to blush.

"Er, thanks," he said shyly. "I'm just here to garner support, eh. Um… yeah, please support Invisible Nations. We need more recognition."

"You forgot micronations!" a much more peppy voice cut in, and Peter Kirkland raced into the room, grinning from ear to ear. "Support the Society for the Promotion of Awesome Micronations! It's SPAM for short; you can't forget it!"

"How can we forget you; you're the one who handles customs," Shannon Price groused. She had apparently asked for an 'MP3' on her registration form and ended up with bobble head figurines of three members of the British Parliament. They had mysteriously disappeared soon after, only to reappear on the roaring black market trade within the student population. Chocolate was almost equal to gold in the IAHF black market, but coffee and tea were tied for second on the priceless commodities list.

Both coffee-drinkers and tea-drinkers at IAHF had formed their own groups; Jennifer had only heard about them at the end of the Platonic Love class. Apparently, Arthur headed the Royal Society of Tea Drinkers, while Alfred presided over the Coalition of Coffee Drinkers. The two factions would butt heads at the beverages stand in the dining hall every day at all mealtimes. In addition, some of the Tea Drinkers were petitioning Mr. Allen to let them have teatime.

Another interesting group was the one that Merka and Kriss had founded: the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles. Of course, Jennifer had immediately signed up, followed by just about all the other England fangirls. In short, the League was just a fancier term for 'England's Fan Club', filled with tea-drinking, crumpet-eating, top hat-wearing Anglophiles.

What was funnier than that was that the British students always broke out into laughter at the sight of them.

As Jennifer finished her lunch and prepared to go to 'Mythology and Folklore 101' (Norway was teaching that), she couldn't help but think that IAHF might not be as terrible as she had originally thought. Granted, the school motto was "Learning through Pain" and the teachers were perpetually grumpy, but never before had she seen so many people who shared the same interests as her.

Jennifer wasn't really one for being philosophical – who cared about philosophy when one can try to conquer the British Empire's heart? – but even she could tell that there was an inherent paradox to IAHF. It might be full of pain (she could hear Norway fangirls up ahead screaming as they got mauled by one of his trolls) and homework (she still had to turn in her homework for Canon 101, and she had barely opened that dreaded textbook), but it still provided a sense of home.

Stepping over the unconscious forms of the Norway fangirls, Jennifer entered her next class.


	5. Un, Duh, Twah, Cat, Sank

**Notes: **For the language class sections of IAHF, I am only going to cover the basics of German, French, Italian, Russian, Japanese, and Latin, as those seem to be the most popular choices amongst the students. Those who know the language, feel free to correct me or offer tricks that I can reuse in the classes. Today we're starting with French, because I'm learning that language right now. Next time I visit the library, I'll pick up some books on the other languages. Gods, the things I do for this fic...

**Part V**

"Bienvenue à votre deuxième classe française avec le très sexy moi," Francis Bonnefois (although he didn't mind if people called him Monsieur Bonnefoy or Monsieur Très Sexy – as long as it wasn't Monsieur Grenouille) was saying cheerfully as Mr. Allen walked into the French class and took a seat in the back, watching the students assembled cross themselves in the hopes of avoiding molestation. "Aujourd'hui, nous allons révisiter l'alphabet. Ensuite, nous allons commencer les numéros!"

"Err, I didn't get a word of what you just said," the alien student (Mr. Allen was partly sure her name was Megan, but then again he had to keep tabs on all the students, all the staff, and all the distressing documents that Eledhwen kept sending him. That Elf sure knew how to give bad news) asked, looking ready to bolt if Francis decided to grope her rather well endowed chest.

Thankfully, he didn't. "We are learning," the Frenchman repeated in thickly accented English, "our numbers today and reviewing the alphabet."

A chorus of "ohhhhhs" ran through the room. Francis nodded.

"Alors, les numéros. Répétez, s'il vous plaît," he instructed. "Un, deux, trois."

"Un, does, trah," the students repeated.

"Non, non. You pronounce 'deux' like this: 'de'. It's like saying 'duh' but with less stress on the 'uh'. Try it."

"Un, duh, trah."

Francis sighed. "I guess that will work for the time being. Now, 'trois' is pronounced 'twah', like how l'Angleterre says 'twat'." There were giggles at that. "So repeat it once more: un, deux, trois."

"Un, duh, twah." Mr. Allen snickered quietly at that; Francis looked up and shot him a 'help me!' look.

"Moving on," Francis sighed again, taking a sip of wine (more students crossed themselves). "Répétez, s'il vous plaît: quatre, cinq."

"Cats sank," the students replied.

"Closer, closer! 'Quatre' is pronounced like 'cat', not 'cats'. What happened to the four cats?" Silence greeted that question. "They sank. Now you'll remember 'cinq' as 'five', oui?"

"Ohhhh, I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE!" Megan exclaimed loudly. Francis smirked.

"Bien sûr. Now repeat the numbers one through five, en français."

"Un, duh, twah, cat, sank," the students answered.

* * *

"So, whatcha learn in German?" Sally Cruz asked Jennifer, Kitty Smith (there was a surprising amount of students with the last name Smith at IAHF, but sadly no one thought that they were related. Had there been any more Changs on campus, Jennifer probably would have been introduced to a so-called long-lost sister or something by now), and Karin Guarez as the students taking French and German met out in the hallway after class. Their classrooms were adjacent to each other and across from the Russian and Japanese classrooms. No one had any idea where the Italian and Latin classrooms were, because the students taking them were unnaturally secretive about their classes. Jennifer had overheard Franklin Livingston and Sabrina Tigers-Eye Laquisha Diamond Sparkles Avery Kelly Ferrari III talking about their Latin class yesterday, mentioning something about the Wall of Rome. She decided not to ask; ignorance was bliss, after all.

Speaking of Sabrina, she was apparently part of some group of "Special People" (or at least that's what the staff called them, with some extra sarcasm thrown in). Well, her... specialness... was hard to miss. The lower half of her body was invisible, but Jennifer could hear the sound of hooves whenever she moved. It was hard to pat her forehead, as everyone who tried bumped up against an invisible horn of sorts. She had a tendency to whinny and a voracious appetite for sugar cubes. She also sparkled worse than a vampire in Washington did.

Some other "Special People" were the cat-girl student Azure and Ema Skye, who claimed to personify a brigade with a ridiculously long name. There were also rumours that Kiril Loris, who bore a canny resemblance to Heracles Karpusi, was a vampire. He didn't eat with them in the dining hall, after all, and he often sized up the staff members as if calculating the amount of blood that they could provide. Plus, he always left the morning training sessions on Tuesday around sunrise, much to Ludwig's annoyance.

But back to Jennifer. "Oh, it was fine. We reviewed the alphabet and phonetics, and then after teaching us how to conjugate 'sein', Gilbert had us write 'Preuβen ist genial' fifty times before dismissing us," she said dismissively. "How was French? Francis didn't molest you, did he?"

"Thankfully, no. But he was leering at Roksana Abdullah. Poor girl must've been scarred."

They joined up with the students taking Russian and Japanese once the others were dismissed. Jennifer was about to go and talk to Merka and Kriss outside the Japanese classroom when Arthur Kirkland appeared around a corner, surrounded by his Mochis and carrying a newspaper.

There were screams as the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles all banded together, pointing and squealing as the Briton disappeared into the Japanese classroom. Kriss and Roksana immediately peered into the room, their faces eager.

"D'aw, they're just talking," Kriss complained.

"Arthur's showing him a newspaper article. Wonder what that's about," Roksana mused.

"What?" Jennifer and Merka demanded, poking their heads into the room as well. Arthur was pointing something out to Kiku, and the two of them seemed to be wearing identical guilty looks.

Jennifer wondered why.

* * *

"Shinbun-kun just released this," Arthur Kirkland announced to Kiku Honda as he waved the _Bled Chronicles_, Shinbun-kun's newspaper detailing the gossip in the staff and student sections of IAHF, over his head. "Look what's on page two."

"Let me look, Arthur-san," Kiku said gently, taking the paper. Arthur pointed to an article titled 'Cold War, Bled Edition' on the second page, his expression sheepish.

"I thought we hid the paint from those two," he sighed as Kiku read the article. "I was pretty sure I had put the cans in a safe in my room guarded by my faerie friends!"

"Considering the damage they did to the Staff Section last week, I wouldn't be surprised if they had blown the safe open," Kiku replied gravely as he closed the paper. "So now the entire Staff Section is Bled-coloured because of their paintball match?"

"Yeah, and Seychelles is sporting a Bled bruise to her right eye. She somehow got in the crossfire."

Kiku looked worried. "You do realise we need to come up with an antidote to Bled now, right?" Arthur nodded, looking up to see several students peeking in. He waved his wand, and the classroom door slammed in their faces.

"I realised that. Now... do you remember how we even made the damn colour in the first place?"

* * *

In the afternoon, several students filed into the "Cuisines of the World" class. As this was a cooking class, the students convened in the IAHF kitchen.

"Stay away from l'Angleterre's latest creation," Francis suggested as he pointed to a pile of green glowing turnip-like substances, "unless you want a one-way ticket to l'hôpital."

"Shut up, frog," Arthur snapped in response. "I just need to fine-tune this and my Turnip Mash will be an absolute hit. I guarantee it."

"An absolute hit to the stomach, maybe," someone whispered, causing the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles to hiss. Francis snickered, getting out some flour from the pantry and taking it over to the table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Gather around, mes élèves," he instructed. "Today, we will make crêpes."

* * *

The students immediately divided into half again – people who liked FrUK versus people who didn't like FrUK. Arthur stood around complaining about how people didn't like his cooking as Jennifer, Merka, and Luna gathered their ingredients and started whisking eggs over in the non-FrUK section of the room.

As Merka stirred the crêpe batter, the doors to the kitchen swung open and Mr. Allen walked in with Fransia perched on his shoulder.

"You don't look well," Arthur noted, and Jennifer watched Mr. Allen grimace and nod.

"I've a headache because of the _newly-painted_ Staff Section," the Course Coordinator remarked. His accent seemed to be fluctuating between American and British, causing Merka to look up and listen in as well.

"I'm sorry. Wait a moment; are you Allen or Hugh right now?" Arthur asked. "Is the Bled affecting you that badly?"

"I can't tell the difference," Mr. Allen/Hugh replied grouchily. "I'm just stopping by to remind you that you should be working on that antidote. I think Francis can handle the cooking class on his own."

"Tch, as if I wanted to work with the frog," the Briton huffed. "I'll go find Kiku, then."

"Get the Staff Section back to normal before dinner, please."

"I'll try."

Jennifer looked at Merka, who shrugged. They looked over at Roksana and Kriss, who were already flipping their crêpes. Kriss caught their eye and shrugged as well.

The staff could be really secretive sometimes.


	6. Black Death and Bled Mirrors

**Part VI**

In the blink of an eye, the last remnants of summer faded from the world outside the IAHF campus buildings and fall started to creep in. The leaves on the trees (the ones still standing after Alfred and Ivan had a 'let's see who's the biggest superpower by blowing up big rocks' contest in late September, of course) were turning a myriad of reds, oranges, and yellows. The days grew cooler and shorter, and brisk winds had almost blown Sabrina the Part-Unicorn's cotton candy hair off her scalp. Jennifer found it amazing that no one had tried to eat her hair yet; it was made of candyfloss, after all.

This particular Saturday morning in early October found the Asian girl strolling on the banks of Lake Eric. This misspelled miniature version of Lake Erie had cropped up literally overnight, and now Pirate Antonio and Pirate Arthur were duking it out in the middle of it. Jennifer found herself dodging occasional cannonballs as she walked past the empty stadium.

Well, she thought it was empty. It was Saturday morning, right?

BANG! A gunshot startled the Asian girl from her quiet observations. Frowning, she approached the stadium to investigate.

There were some Switzerland fangirls gathered in the stands, a safe distance away from the gun-toting Nation himself. Vash Zwingli was doing target practice, aiming a rifle at a picture of a girl with grey eyes, pointed ears, and black hair.

Deciding that she was better off not knowing why he was shooting at that particular target, Jennifer left the stadium and resumed her walk. Outside, the naval battle between the Pirate versions of Antonio and Arthur had boiled over into Spanish Armada mode, and Pirate Francis was trying to get his boat launched. A group of Spain, England, and France fangirls were gathered on the shore, watching them and dodging stray cannonballs.

"Gah, I'm surprised the entire Academy isn't awake with all this noise," Jennifer yelled at Megan, who was sitting in the stands trying to nick a tomato from Cristiana Moretti, who was only there because someone said that Lovino was onboard Pirate Spain's ship.

"What did you say?" Megan hollered back.

"Do you think these two woke up the entire school?" Jennifer yelled.

"I don't know, maybe!"

By now, Pirate Francis had sailed out to the fray, turning the 'Battle of the Spanish Armada' into the 'Battle of Trafalgar'. On the banks, more students had arrived with breakfast half-eaten in their hands. Some of the England fangirls were debating over who was hotter: Pirate or normal Arthur.

"They've got it wrong. Policeman Arthur all the way," Anastasia Debby declared, jabbing a thumb towards the debaters. Jennifer sniggered, watching Megan and Cristiana argue about the merits of Spamano.

"Have you seen him around lately?" Jennifer wondered.

"No, but I heard he helps keep some of the more aggressive Mochis in check," Anastasia replied. She sighed dreamily. "Aah, arrest me, officer..."

Jennifer looked back at the stadium, seeing Vash emerge with a scowl, carrying his target and a giant bag of rifles. Behind him were his fangirls, all of them wearing bulletproof vests and giggling. Without warning, they started a stampede.

Bad idea number one: stampeding Vash Zwingli. He always had a gun on hand, if not several. And he was never afraid to use them, bulletproof vests or not.

* * *

"The Black Death!" Ivan Braginski exclaimed happily in History on Wednesday. "Today we will learn about the scourge that killed about thirty to sixty percent of Europe's population between 1348 and 1350."

Shudders ran through the class. Jennifer could almost feel herself getting the plague from the Russian's disturbing smile.

"Let's take a look at how widespread this disease was, da?" Ivan continued. He seemed unusually cheery about this topic, partly because he hadn't been as affected by the first wave of plague as the others had been. "The disease of the Black Death comes from the bacterium _Yersinia pestis_, which was commonly found in marmots in Central Asia." He pulled out a map of Europe and Asia, pointing to China. "Scientists have already discovered that the plague originated in China, because there were many marmots and voles there."

"Wait, so Yao was responsible for this?" Grace asked, looking horrified. "Aiyah!"

"Well, in a way," Ivan replied thoughtfully. "The bacterium preyed primarily on ground rodents, and there were only about 60 million people in China's population. Before the plague entered Constantinople in 1347, it had already killed about 25 million Chinese and other Asians."

"Did Kiku and Yong-Soo get the disease?" Ryosuke Nakayama asked. "Did the plague spread to Japan and Korea?"

"As far as I'm concerned, no," Ivan said. "But the plague did spread into India, Arabia, and parts of Northern Africa as well as Europe."

"How'd it get to Europe?" Anita Khok, one of the youngest students in the class, asked. The students who had taken some form of European History stared at her as if she was stupid, causing the little Asian girl to burst into tears.

"Hey! You made her cry! That's mean!" Azure the cat-girl declared, leaning over to pat Anita on the back.

"To answer your question, Miss Khok," Ivan replied with a smile that would have looked friendly on anyone else, "the plague came to Europe through the Crimean trading city of Caffa. Some Genoese traders – Genoa's part of Italy, by the way – were defending the city from Mongol invaders, but they fled when the Mongols threw infected corpses over the city walls to bring down the inhabitants."

"Basically one of the first instances of biological warfare," Carolina Brown stated. Ivan gave her a 'raise your hand before contributing your thoughts, you dimwit' stare, causing the girl to shrink slightly in her seat.

"Miss Brown is correct, though," the Russian continued, as he grabbed his water pipe and used it to point to the Crimea. "The Italians sailed from Caffa to Sicily and southern Europe, carrying the plague with them in the rats onboard the ship."

"Ew, rats!" Roksana Abdullah screamed, causing people to turn around and look at her. "Meep... I'm just... scared of creepy-crawlies, okay?"

Ivan nodded, but he suddenly seemed to have a plotting air about him. "Now, Europe isn't doing quite well in this century. Can anyone tell me why?"

The Nerd Group raised their hands. "The Great Famine struck Northwest Europe," Tori Troutman immediately said.

"Grain prices went up because of that famine," Karin Guarez added.

"Anthrax struck the livestock," Franklin Livingston chipped in.

"Anything else?" Ivan asked.

"England and France went to war against each other," Natashia Fernandez said, with an expression that clearly said 'hate sex for the win!'. The USUK shippers hissed at her.

"All right. So we have war, famine, inflation, and disease. Do you think this sort of Europe will be vulnerable to the Black Death?" Once more, that ominous plotting aura surrounded him; even the Russian Mochis took a few bounces back.

"Y-yeah," Merka said in a quiet voice at the back of the room. She was known for being deathly afraid of Ivan, to the point where Jennifer and Kriss had to drag her into the History classroom and tie her down with some rope they had found in the Japanese classroom a week ago. Kriss had claimed that the rope proved Kiku's kinkiness, but Jennifer thought that Kiku used it to hang unruly students from the ceiling by their toes.

"The plague devastated Europe. Within two years, it had ravaged all the Nations: England, France, Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, Italy, Austria, Spain, Denmark, Sweden – pretty much everyone. It took us about a hundred and fifty years to recover, and even after the plague had temporarily abated on the continent it continued to ravage England, claiming about thirty to fifty percent of the population there."

"Poor Arthur!" the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles chimed in as a whole.

"Yes, I do have to agree with that," Ivan sighed. "The bubonic plague recurred in Europe sporadically until the nineteenth century, when people started emphasising on cleanliness."

"But it's still not gone, is it?" Arianna Borrel asked.

Ivan grinned. "No, it's not. Did you know that the Imperial Japanese Army used the plague as a weapon during the Second Sino-Japanese War in World War Two?"

"Kiku would never do such a thing!" Lucy the Japan fangirl declared.

"Oh, but he did," Ivan cackled. "In 1940, the Imperial Japanese Army Air Service bombed Ningbo, China, with fleas carrying the bubonic plague." That statement made Lucy faint in her seat, but everyone left her there.

"Badass lurk," Kriss whispered appreciatively. Jennifer huffed.

"But back to the fourteenth century," Ivan continued. "The Black Death was transmitted from rodents to people through fleas that preyed on the rodents. The fleas carrying the bacteria had their guts obstructed by the replicating bacteria, so they regurgitated in order to get rid of the blockage – they vomited the plague bacteria out into another host when they fed. So when the infected fleas ran out of rats, they latched onto the next best host available – humans." The students who detested insects curled up in their seats and looked at Ivan warily from behind their knees.

Ivan carried on, despite the growing discomfort of the class. "Now, there is general consensus amongst human historians that the primary disease in the Black Death was the bubonic plague. However, other diseases contributed to the high death rate. Anthrax was one of them, and so were deadlier variants of the plague."

"Symptoms?" Franklin Livingston asked, in a rather strangled voice. He seemed eager to learn, but not too sure if he could keep down his breakfast if Ivan continued with his graphic descriptions.

"Bubonic plague manifests itself through buboes in the groin, the neck, and the armpits; the buboes ooze pus and bleed when scratched. Victims then start throwing up and contracting high fevers." Jennifer was starting to feel creeped out by the relish in the Russian's voice as he recounted the symptoms. "The patient usually dies within eight days if he or she is not treated. Pneumonic plague, however, manifests itself through blood-tinged sputum, which is basically mucus and phlegm."

"Can we stop talking about this?" Sabrina the Part-Unicorn demanded. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

But Ivan barrelled on. "Septicaemic plague is the deadliest form, and it manifests itself through purple skin patches." That got Gregory Walton cowering in his seat. "Pneumonic and Septicaemic plague do not form buboes, because they usually killed their victims too quickly for the buboes to appear."

Nearly all of the students were cowering in their seats at the sadistic grin on his face as he continued to retell the symptoms with relish. Jennifer closed her eyes, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Anthrax, on the other hand, can enter the body through the skin, the intestines, or the lungs, and the symptoms expressed depend on its entry point. The most obvious symptom of anthrax infection is an itchy blister with a black dot that eventually turns into an ulcer with a black centre. That happens to people who contract it through the skin; those who get it through the respiratory or digestive systems don't exhibit those ulcers. Respiratory anthrax infections end with respiratory collapse, which is often fatal. Gastrointestinal infection leads to blood vomiting, diarrhoea, and inflammation of the digestive tract."

"We're not going to be able to eat lunch at this rate," Celeste moaned weakly, clutching her head.

"So, what were the consequences?" Ivan asked suddenly, causing the students to look up.

"Uh... death?" Ema Skye asked. "Did the Nations contract the disease personally?"

Ivan paused for a moment. "Well, whatever happens to the people manifest themselves in the Nation, da?" There were nods. "So, yes, but we survived. Barely, but we did. I think Arthur was the most affected; he spent nearly two centuries in bed suffering from plague."

"That's awful!" Jennifer whispered, horrified.

Ivan stared at her for a moment, before continuing. "But actually, I was asking about other consequences. The doctors at that time couldn't explain why the Black Death caused so much suffering amongst the Europeans. Does anyone know what they blamed?"

Once again, the Nerd Group raised their hands. "Astrological forces," Carolina Brown said immediately. "Earthquakes, sabotage, and God's anger."

"They blamed the Jews for poisoning the wells," Tori Troutman added. "So... anti-Semitism led to massacres of Jewish communities."

Ivan nodded. "But back to the idea that God was mad at the Europeans," he said. "One of the most popular groups at this time was the Brotherhood of the Flagellants." At that, many students' eyes went wide.

"What did they do?" Sara Parker demanded, looking gleeful. "Did they whip people?"

"No, they whipped themselves," Ivan replied, causing shudders to ripple through the students. "They believed that self-punishment through whipping showed piety towards God, consequently persuading Him to lessen the ferocity of the Black Death."

"They were wrong, weren't they?" Carolina asked. "I mean, the Catholic Church condemned them."

"You've got to consider the stupidity of the idea," Franklin replied loudly. "I mean, they whipped themselves until they bled, which meant that they would get the plague and therefore spread it from town to town."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Ivan reasoned, grinning evilly. Jennifer shivered. Ivan smiling was always a bad omen, after all.

* * *

"I've lost my appetite," Kiri Olaveja complained as the students gratefully left the History classroom. "I don't even care if Feliciano's pasta is on the menu – Ivan killed my appetite."

"Same here," Arianna Borrel grumbled. Jennifer rushed past them, hurrying to the bathrooms before the rest of the students beat her to the punch and formed a long line.

In her haste to get into the bathroom – there was no way her digestive tract could suppress breakfast now, especially since Ivan ended his class with brutal pictures of people with the plague – Jennifer failed to notice the threatening message scrawled in Bled paint across the mirrors in the girl's lavatory.

Five minutes later, Jennifer had given a canny impersonation of a hung-over college student to the toilet. Other students had arrived to do the same, but someone was bound to discover the message.

"What is this?" Rachael Aria Wilkison's voice came from the direction of the sinks; judging by the amount of voices, a line had started. "It's like... a message." Rachael – or Rae – sympathised with Emmanuella the horned student because both had been forced to attend the Academy. She was also one of the more reluctant members in the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles, because she was just as tsundere about her Lust Object as he could be himself.

"Can anyone read it?" sierra akoti (Jennifer was still trying to figure out how to pronounce a lowercase name) demanded. "That colour hurts my eyes."

"It hurts everyone's eyes, stupid," Shelby T. White snapped crabbily.

When Jennifer emerged from her stall (Megan had quickly taken her place before the door had even shut), the first thing she noticed was that the weaker-stomached students had already made a mess all over the tiled floor.

The second thing she noticed was the writing on the mirror.

* * *

"It's a mystery!" declared Emmanuella at lunch from the Europe table. "The Mystery of the Bled Message!"

"Cut the dramatics," Mike Hawk snapped from the North American table. "No one cares."

"Actually, a lot of us do care," Rachael replied. "Could anyone read the message? All I could tell was that it was in English, and then my head started hurting."

"You'd have to be a masochist to be able to figure it out," Karen DuLay replied cheerily, despite the numerous bruises and Mochi bits all over her. American football season was starting, and Karen, having been caught trying to sneak cookies to Ludwig and subsequently put in Auchwits, had to referee the football games between the American Mochis. She didn't have to sit in on Ivan's sickening lecture, but she spent the entire game being tackled and blobbed.

"You say that like it's a good thing," Emmanuella sniffed, diverting her attention to her pasta. Feliciano's pasta _alla carbonara_ was the best.

After lunch, Jennifer, Kriss, Megan, and Merka immediately met up at the dormitories. Kriss and Merka shared a room on the first floor; Jennifer thought that putting an Asakiku shipper with a USUK shipper was either bad judgement or sheer cruelty on behalf of the staff. At least the two were both Anglophiles, because that lessened the animosity between them. When Jennifer entered their room, she saw the Union Jack covering just about every available surface.

"Nice room," she remarked, while Megan muttered something about Spain's ass.

"Thanks!" replied Merka with a grin. "So, that horned girl was talking about the message at lunch. I think it was replicated in every single student bathroom on campus; I heard William Ofritas and Franklin Livingston talking about it on their way to the boy's dorm."

"Why don't we go check it out? No one has been able to read it so far," Kriss added with an excited glint in her eyes. The four girls promptly started planning, not noticing Emmanuella listening in from below their window.

* * *

Kiku Honda was not amused, but he hid that fact very well.

He and Arthur had come up with an antidote to Bled, but it was costly and took too much time. Arthur's grand idea (you could almost hear the sarcasm in the Japanese man's thoughts) was to slap a bunch of bandages over the Bled-coated surface and wait for the colour to transfer to the bandages, which would then be disposed of. But unfortunately, Florance Nightingail, the nurse at IAHF, didn't have enough bandages to go around.

So even though several weeks had passed, the Staff Section remained stubbornly Bled. Now the student lavatories had Bled messages scrawled all over the mirrors. To say that Mr. Allen was angry with him and Arthur was to say that Ivan was just a _little_ creepy.

Back to the drawing board, then. Kiku sighed, tuning out Mr. Allen (and Mr. Hugh)'s exasperated cry of "WHY ISN'T THERE ENOUGH ASPIRIN TO GO AROUND?" and starting to draw. Eventually he'd draw up another plan. Eventually.

"Eureka, Kiku!" Arthur exclaimed, poking his head into the room. He carried a giant platter of... something. Kiku was sure that the substance on the platter had once been mashed potato or mashed turnip, but then Arthur got his hands on it.

"What did you find out?" the unamused Japanese asked, coolly watching the substance wobble about like mouldy green Jell-o. "And what in the name of Amaterasu is that?"

"Look at your wall over there," Arthur replied, pointing to the wall behind Kiku, which was covered in Bled paint. He took a handful of the strange green substance and hurled it at the wall.

"Arthur-san!" Kiku exclaimed, horrified. He turned around, but suddenly he noticed that he could actually look at part of the wall – the spot where the substance had hit the wall and slid down, wiping away the Bled paint as it went. "What... what is that?"

"My special Turnip Mash," Arthur replied smugly. "I said it'd be a hit."

By dinnertime, the Staff Section was Bled-free. But now it smelt of radioactive turnip, so the female Nations were running through the halls with air fresheners, spraying just about every surface they could reach.

The students, though, had to put up with Bled-painted mirrors for the rest of the week. From what Jennifer, Merka, Kriss, and Megan had gathered from their prolonged staring at the mirrors, the message read something along the lines of 'Slash us together, and you'll regret it. From, the Bled Pinjas'.

One mystery down, another to go. Such was always the case at IAHF.


	7. Pirate Arthur Ahoy

**Notes:** Fail pirate speech ahoy. It's like... Hagrid meets Jack Sparrow or something. Only without 'savvy' and dreadlocks.

* * *

**Part VII**

When the writing on the mirrors was decoded, speculations and rumours about the Bled Pinjas flew around the academy like wildfire. Even the staff seemed to know nothing about them, which only added fuel to the fire. People immediately put forth their favourite pairings as the pinja pair – when hamburgers were put on the dinner menu one evening halfway into October, the USUK and FrUS shippers both claimed that their ships made up the Bled Pinjas, resulting in hamburger bits flying all over the room.

Life at IAHF fell into a routine of sorts. Jennifer found herself woken up every morning by explosions (whether it was Pirate Arthur versus everyone else or Alfred and Ivan trying another competition, there would always be plenty of explosions to go around) and screaming (because someone had tried to sneak into the Staff Section once again). After sorting through the giant heap of clothing in the closet (neither she nor Megan wanted to do the laundry, but Jennifer finally gave up when her favourite top was blobbed on. She was taking their things to the wash on Sunday) and extracting something to wear, she would then find that there was something wrong with the bathrooms (last week, Sakura Crystal Kirkland had stolen Wizard Arthur's Potions book and attempted to make a Love Potion. The result had clogged up the plumbing until Feliks Łukasiewcz had finally been convinced to peek into the pipes. Who knew that the Pole was such a good plumber?) and would be forced to wait until after breakfast to brush her teeth.

Breakfast was usually something good, unless Tino Väinämöinen or Arthur Kirkland was cooking that day. People wanted to eat mykyrokka as much as they wanted to eat radioactive scones. There were rumours that Tino used the blood, hearts, and kidneys of Mary Sues who targeted Berwald Øxenstierna in his mykyrokka. (Yuki-Rin Øxenstierna, a Sweden fangirl, had been advised to stay clear of the Finn at all times. Who knew that Tino could be so violent?)

After finally gaining access to the bathroom after breakfast, Jennifer would then prepare for classes. On this particular Friday, she had Geography. That Hungarian woman with the frying pan, Elisabeta Héderváry, was the teacher. She took a particular delight in knocking students over the head with her pan if they answered her questions wrong, and seemed to relish talking about the Nations' "natural borders with each other". Just about all of the shippers thought the same.

Jennifer entered the Geography classroom with Megan and Merka, Merka clutching a bag of doughnuts that she had gotten off the black market yesterday. Jennifer didn't want to know what she had traded to get them. She took her seat, taking out her Geography textbook (_Countries of the World and Where to Find Them_). Nothing wrong with last minute studying, after all, Elisabeta had hinted at a test today.

"Are you ready for the Europe test?" Sally asked as she walked by. Jennifer shook her head.

"Not at all. It's just naming the countries of Europe, right?"

"Yeah, but there are so many countries in Europe," Sally lamented, taking her seat in the row in front of Jennifer.

Elisabeta marched into the classroom flanked by Gilbert Beilschmidt and Roderich Edelstein. At the sight of Roderich, Azure launched herself out of her seat. Edelsten and Osterrech tackled her.

"You have a test today, I do believe?" Elisabeta asked sweetly as she reached the podium. There were groans – everyone except the Nerd Group had wanted the Hungarian to forget about the test. "Nice try; I have a very good memory." Gilbert and Roderich cringed at that, causing several PruAus shippers to squeal.

"So, let me get you your tests. You have the whole period to finish this, so you have no excuse for not finishing. Gilbert and Roderich are proctoring with me; tackle them and you will be sent to the Golag."

"Not Auchwits?" Laurel Martin asked weakly, ogling Gilbert from her seat. The Prussian's expression seemed caught between flattered and disgusted.

"No, the Golag. And stop undressing Gilbo with your eyes," Elisabeta snapped as she took out a giant stack of papers and started passing them out.

The test consisted mostly of filling out the countries of Europe on the map. There was also a section where they had to match the cultural event or language to the country. Jennifer yearned for the days when each option in matching only went to one question.

The worst part of the test (aside from filling out the map) was the fill-in section, though.

_What is the name of the mountain range between Spain and France? What is the capital of Moldova? How many lakes can you find in Belarus? Name the countries that formed when Yugoslavia finally dissolved in 2003._ On and on the section went, until Jennifer's head spun and she had to rest her her forehead against the desk.

And then she started feeling sleepy…

* * *

Jennifer woke up in utter darkness. The first thing she noticed was that she was hanging upside-down from something. The second thing was that wherever she was, she was rocking about gently as if floating on a body of water.

The door to wherever she was opened and Pirate Arthur stepped in. Jennifer had to clutch her nose to stop the nosebleed – it was hard, since all the blood in her body was rushing to her head anyways – her eyes widening.

"Ah, yer awake, Miss Chang," Pirate Arthur drawled. "Gilbert n' Roderich dragged yeh in here 'n gave yeh ter me, since yeh fell asleep in class. Tsk, tsk, lass. Apparently yer ter write a grand ol' essay on why yeh shouldn't fall asleep in class."

"Er, yeah, sure… can you get me down?" Jennifer asked weakly, swaying slightly from where she hung. Pirate Arthur scoffed and took out a giant ring of keys from his belt.

"One of these li'l beauties is yer key, lass. Hop ter it." Throwing the key ring at her, he left the room.

After a gruelling hour or so (there really were a lot of keys on that damn key ring), Jennifer managed to unlock herself from the manacles chaining her to the ceiling. Not only did she have to find the keys, but she also had to lean up and try to get to the manacles, which were around her ankles. The Asian girl mourned her inability to touch her toes, because she had to bend her knees to reach her feet. That was somehow very hard to do while dangling upside-down by her ankles. Once she extricated herself from her bindings, she fell to the floor with an almighty crash.

Judging by the world outside the porthole in the ship – for where else could she be but on Pirate Arthur's ship? – it was already nightfall. Jennifer had no idea what time it was, but she was glad that she wasn't eating any of the mustamakkara being served in the cafeteria tonight. But then again, since that was blood sausage, it was likely just to be tossed around in the SuFin versus RussFin food fight.

Jennifer exited the room and walked through the passageway lit by oil lamps. Every bit of the ship creaked; she felt goosebumps rising on her arm. She peered into every room that wasn't locked – all she saw were crew quarters, the galley, and several storage rooms. One of the storage rooms had a huge supply of paint cans; Jennifer wondered why but decided not to think on it too much. After wandering along the ship for half an hour, she finally found a ladder that led her onto the deck.

Pirate Arthur's ship just _had_ to be in the middle of the lake. Jennifer groaned, looking out at Pirate Antonio and Pirate Francis's ships sitting a few feet away. In the morning, they were probably going to start re-enacting another famous naval battle. For now, everything was peaceful.

Well, until she heard a loud cheer in the direction of the stadium. The American Mochis were probably playing American football again, with poor Karen DuLay as their referee. Jennifer pitied the other fangirl, although she couldn't understand why Karen insisted on sneaking cookies to Ludwig so often. What was so special about Ludwig, especially when compared to Arthur?

Jennifer continued to stare at the stadium, all lit up at night. Cheers rose from within – apparently the staff was there. Alfred's voice could be heard clearly; he was yelling at the top of his lungs and sound carried over water quite easily. Right at that moment, he was screaming something about beating "those damn Commie Mochis".

"Psst!" someone hissed, and Jennifer looked up to see a figure shrouded in black sitting on the main mast. "Someone has a boat for you."

"Wait, what?" Jennifer asked. The figure did a couple of somersaults and landed gracefully in front of her. Impressed, Jennifer noticed that he bore a striking resemblance to Kiku, only in ninja gear.

"Trying to get off Captain Arthur's ship?" the ninja asked cheerily. "Someone has a boat for you in the waters on the starboard side."

"Really?" Jennifer asked, peering over the edge of the right side of the ship. The waters were black and slightly choppy, but she spotted a little rowboat tied to the anchoring chain. "But… how do I…"

The ninja grinned and shoved her overboard. Jennifer screamed as she plummeted into the water. As she surfaced and scrambled for the rowboat, she heard Pirate Arthur saying something about rating that splash a ten out of ten. The ninja – Ninja Kiku, who else could it be? – merely said something about fangirls and revenge.

Confused, the Asian girl started paddling for shore. As she did, she saw something in the water, swimming along with her. Curious, Jennifer paused in her rowing. She was damn tired, anyways.

"Hello there!" a cheerful voice exclaimed, and Jennifer had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. A mermaid – yes, a bloody fuckin' mermaid – poked her head above the water and grinned at her. "I'm Lucia Verdas! How are you?"

"You're a student, aren't you? How do you get to class?" Jennifer wondered.

"Oh, I can walk around on land in the mornings, but it's super painful. Like I'm walking on broken glass or something." Jennifer winced at that, but Lucia was still talking. "I have to be back in water before dark, though, or else I'm going to shrivel up like how you humans shrivel when you're in water for too long."

"Ick," Jennifer mumbled, scrunching up her face. Lucia giggled.

"Tell me about it! I tried staying overnight with Sabrina because she's keeping my Stephen Colbert punching pillow, but I had to spend the night in a tub of water because my skin was getting all pruny like a raisin. Isn't that, like, totally gross?"

Jennifer nodded, not knowing what else to say. She wasn't exactly an expert on beauty and fashion, mostly because she was too busy being an Anglophile to care.

"So, you're stuck out here with me tonight! Isn't that fabulous? I'm always so lonely here with no one to talk to. The pirates always ignore me when I try to start a conversation. Those bastards. Tony's way better, anyways."

"Tony, as in Tony the alien?" Jennifer asked, feeling slightly nauseous when Lucia nodded eagerly.

"Yeah, he's like so sexy! Man, I wish I could meet him."

Jennifer had half a mind to introduce her to Megan.

* * *

"Damn it, where were you last night?" said alien girl demanded when Jennifer stumbled into their room at four in the morning. "I was up all night worried sick about you!"

"You were?" Jennifer asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

"Actually, no, I was sleeping. But I woke up and you still weren't here, so I thought that France had abducted you or something. Hey, why's your hair all wet?"

"I was abducted," Jennifer replied smoothly, trying to towel-dry her hair with Megan's rubber ducky-printed towel.

"That's my towel!" Megan screamed. "Stop raping my towel!"

"I didn't know it said no," Jennifer replied sarcastically as she flung the towel at her roommate and grabbed her own. "So, wanna hear about my abduction?"

"Sure, bro!" Megan grinned, propping herself up on her elbows and watching Jennifer change. The other girl had a sudden burst of modesty and wrapped herself in her towel. "What the fuck are you doing that for? We're both girls, aren't we?"

"Shut up. Anyways, I fell asleep while taking Elisabeta's test in Geography, so Gilbert and Roderich had Pirate Arthur string me upside-down from the ceiling somewhere in his pirate ship."

"And how did you escape?" Megan demanded.

"Pirate Arthur gave me a set of keys and I unlocked myself. And then someone had a rowboat for me, so I spent all night paddling back to shore. Hey, I met a mermaid, too, when I was paddling."

Megan snorted. "Cool story, bro, but you sound like you're on Arthur's cooking. Meeting _mermaids_?"

"No, seriously, there's a mermaid student here." Jennifer huffed and turned around, zipping up her black hoodie. "Wanna go meet her?"

"After you get some sleep; you'll probably pass out on me halfway to the lake," Megan replied, so Jennifer gratefully stumbled to her bed and lay down.

"You know what?" she said suddenly. "It'd be funny if the Bled Pinjas struck again."

* * *

"Extra, extra! Read all about it!" The red-haired and freckled Shinbun-kun raced through the school, waving the _Bled Chronicles_ wildly and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Jennifer woke from her nap to that voice, very grateful for Saturdays. She sat up, to see that Megan had left the room. There was a thump at her door, and when Jennifer opened it, she saw a copy of the newspaper. The headlines blared "Bled Pinjas Strike Again!" in striking bold font, followed by a picture of a glowering Alfred F. Jones, captioned "Alfred F. Jones accuses Ivan Braginski of painting his possessions Bled. We couldn't get a picture of the damage; the camera burned out when we tried."

Jennifer had to smack herself mentally for tempting the Powers that Be before she started to read the article.

**Bled Pinjas Strike Again**

_The notorious bandits of IAHF's feared colour painted several staff and student possessions last night. The victims are staff members Alfred F. Jones, Feliks Łukasiewcz, Punk Rocker Arthur Kirkland, and Toris Lorinatis, and students Rachael Wilkison, sierra akoti, Lydiacatfish, and Gregory Bob Walton._

"_I blame Ivan for this!" says Jones. "It's totally something he'd do, since my Mochis kicked his Mochis' asses last night in the football match! I bet he's just jealous."_

_Some possessions that were damaged are: guitars, music-playing pea pods, textbooks, electronic devices, clothing, and a black lab named Kobe._

"_Whoever you Bled Pinjas are, I'm gonna hunt you fuckers down and kill you," says Punk Kirkland. "You fucking ruined my guitar."_

_Bled is resistant to everything except mashed turnips, which staff member Arthur Kirkland quickly provided for his colleagues. The students will have to find some in the cafeteria to get rid of the paint on their possessions._

"_Don't ask me how I created the colour in the first place," says Kirkland. "I don't remember how it happened, and every time I try to bring up the topic Kiku refuses to talk."_

_Bled paint is a very dangerous substance, as the colour can cause blindness if stared at for too long. It has also been known to induce headaches, nausea, and vacillation between personalities (just ask Mr. Allen/Hugh). _

"_I hope I can find enough turnips to get this stuff off," says Lydiacatfish. "I already have a headache looking at my stuff. I don't know why I was selected as a target and I certainly wish I hadn't been chosen, but oh well. Do you know where the turnips are?"_

Jennifer set down the paper, sighing. She looked out the window, watching Megan walk past with Kriss and Merka, a copy of the paper in their hands. Still feeling sleepy, she laid back and lapsed into another nap.

Thank the Powers that Be for Saturdays, after all.

* * *

**Notes:** So, I wonder who the Bled Pinjas are? Offer me your theories, unless you've already figured it out.

**Answers to the questions, if you're curious:**

The mountain range between Spain and France is called the Pyrénées (I'm using the French spelling, because I'm a Francophile. Deal with it).

The capital of Moldova is Chişinău.

There are 11,000 lakes in Belarus.

Yugoslavia divided into Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia. Technically, they divided in 1991, but Serbia and Montenegro were still called Yugoslavia until 2003.


	8. Of Yaoi Porn and GrammarBootCamp

**Notes: **Having procured a set of textbooks for Latin, Japanese, German, and Italian (MY ARMS HURT, MOMMA), I can safely say that pretty much all the language classes will be shown in IAHF. Maybe not Russian, though, until I find some help with that.

**Warning:** It's sex ed with Finland and Sweden, part one. If you're not into these sorts of topics, don't read the longest section of the chapter. XD;;

* * *

**Part VIII**

Mr. Hugh – it was most definitely Mr. Hugh; he was talking in a distinctly British accent – was striding down the halls of the Staff Section, trying to walk away from his troubles for a few minutes or so.

His day had started out terrible, in the form of PPC Agent Eledhwen Elerossiel portalling into his room and organising everything so that his clothes were arranged in rainbow order (an impressive feat considering that most of his outfits were black and white, excluding that one blue uniform he wore in his canon cameo) with the sleeves ordered by length (another impressive feat, as most of his shirts looked alike and were the same length sleeve-wise). He might have appreciated it a lot more if she hadn't been cursing at him in Sindarin, a language he didn't know (once again, an impressive feat since he was multilingual – the better to detect student plots with, my dear). Eledhwen then delivered her stack of documents and sharpened all the pencils down to stubs so that they'd be the same length as the shortest pencil in the cup.

It continued to go downhill even after Eledhwen left, because Charlie Tenterden had somehow snuck into the Staff Section and was hiding under the dining room table. So when Mr. Hugh took his seat, Charlie popped out from under the table with a slavish expression. Workbitch had to stop the enraged Course Coordinator from smacking the student into oblivion with his Document of Character Deportation, suggesting that a two-week term in the Golag ought to teach Charlie. Mr. Hugh thought that it wouldn't, but Charlie might lose some libido from watching Mochis blob on the nudist beach.

And then Shinbun-kun, who was probably some long-lost twin of Charlie's, had then popped in announcing that four staff members had had their possessions painted Bled.

Most students thought that Mr. Hugh was perpetually grumpy. That _used to_ be a false statement. At the thought of that, said Course Coordinator groaned slightly, pausing in his walk to bang his head against the wall. Somewhere outside, some students were screaming as Endland and murika, the Special Relationship Mochis, chased them into the remnants of Alfred's Heroic Abyss™. Endland and murika had one of the highest team catch rates amongst the Mochis, almost up there with Eevahn and chogoku. Those Communist Mochis were damn _brutal_.

The Course Coordinator walked over to a window, taking a seat on the ledge and looking out. Ah, IAHF. Full of such unexpected and amusing happenings, yet simultaneously being a pain in the neck. But it was his home, now. It was everyone's home.

"You're getting old," he rebuked, not sure if he was directing that to himself or his alter-ego. "And sentimental. There are fangirls to torture, and you're sitting on a window ledge thinking happy thoughts."

"Sir! Mr. Hugh, sir!" A blond-haired Briton in a flamboyantly-cut Armani suit ran down the corridor towards him, dragging with him the unconscious form of Charlie Tenterden. "I caught this bloke trying to escape from the Golag."

"Throw him back in, with Policeman Arthur's manacles," Mr. Hugh said dismissively. "Thank you, Howard."

"No problem, sir." Howard the Spy bowed and dragged Charlie off. Mr. Hugh leaned against the glass, wincing slightly when Howard raced down a flight of stairs, Charlie clattering in his wake.

"Meepmeepmeep," a Mochi said as soon as the clatters had faded. Mr. Hugh smiled and leaned up to pat Yosei san, a Flying Mint Mochi. It was distinguishable from Flying Mint Bunny (and Yousei-san) by the lack of any sort of skeletal structure except in the wings.

"How are you doing today? Caught any more fangirls?" Mr. Hugh asked kindly, pulling out a bag of bacon and handing a strip to the Mochi. Yosei san nibbled at the bacon, nodding as it ate. Chuckling, Mr. Hugh watched a string of Fluffy Mint Bunnies hop by as they chased Gilbird. The Fluffy Mint Bunnies smelled of mint, hopped about adorably, and doubled as plotbunnies. Flying Mint Bunny and Yousei-san had been trying to teach them to fly, but to no avail.

"Meepmeep," Yosei san said once finished, and took off. Mr. Hugh smiled, but nearly fell off his ledge when he heard a whinny. Arthur's unicorn was making the rounds, it seemed.

"Don't do that!" the Course Coordinator chastised, reaching out to nothingness. Only the Arthurs could see the unicorn, which meant that if _anyone else_ wasn't careful, they might find themselves gored by an invisible horn (that is, unless they ate Arthur's cooking and were therefore able to see magical creatures. Unfortunately, other side effects of eating Arthur's cooking included indigestion, temporary blindness, dementia, spatial distortion, and even death).

The invisible unicorn whinnied again, and Mr. Hugh felt a wet… nose-like thing… brush up against his cheek. "I don't have any sugar, if that's what you're looking for," Mr. Hugh replied. "Besides, any chocolate I have on hand is for personal use. Why don't you go gore some students?" One more whinny, and the unicorn was gone. Mr. Hugh got up from his seat and walked away, vaguely thinking that he ought to go back to his office.

On the way back, he nearly tripped over Hanatamago, who had the remnants of a puffin plushie in her mouth. Mr. Hugh bent down to pat the puppy, smiling when she let go of her catch and barked.

"Ah, Mr. Hugh! I was hoping to catch you," Tino Väinämöinen's voice resounded, and Mr. Hugh straightened up to see Hanatamago's owner. "I've been reading some SuFin fanfiction –"

"And why would you do that?" Mr. Hugh wondered, mildly amused.

"That matters not," the Finn replied dismissively. "_Sverige_ and I have agreed that the fanstudents' grasp on… ahem… the birds and the bees… is quite lacking. So we're requesting to do a two-part seminar on the realities of sex next weekend."

"A… sexual education seminar? Halloween's coming up, Tino; I'm already swamped with preparations for that." That was a half-truth – he had finished placing orders for the catering, entertainment, and decorations, but he was now busy making sure that the students weren't ordering overly sexualised costumes. Not everyone wanted to see a hormonal teenager wearing something out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue.

"No matter; we can have the slash part tomorrow, then! I'll ask Elisabeta or Yekaterina to help me with the het and femslash parts for some other time." Tino smirked evilly, and Mr. Hugh made a mental note to take away the Finn's access to _Scandinavia and the World_. Obviously he was borrowing several leaves from _that_ Finland's book.

"Er, tomorrow's GrammarBootCamp," the Course Coordinator said, taking out a pocket-sized agenda. "But we might be able to split it up, so… yes, why not."

* * *

Jennifer had barely gotten the laundry into the laundry room the next morning before an announcement blared over the loudspeakers, instructing the students to report to the Mochi Football Practice Lawn under pain of cleaning up Mochi bits from the now-infamous Mochi nudist beach.

"Today we have two seminars: GrammarBootCamp with me and 'Sexual Clarification' with Finland and Sweden," Mr. Allen (since he had an American accent and was acting about seven times eviller) barked into a giant Bled megaphone as he stalked up and down the rows of students. Most of them were half-asleep. "GrammarBootCamp is a long-standing tradition observed in all academies of this type. So I'm warning you, if anyone mixes up 'they're', 'their', and 'there', _they're_ going to help Switzerland with his target practice."

Jennifer cringed. Judging by what she had seen of the Swiss man's marksmanship, he was likely to miss on purpose just to prolong the pain.

"Hullo there!" Tino exclaimed cheerfully as he took the megaphone from the Course Coordinator. "I'm Tino Väinämöinen, and this is Berwald Øxenstierna. We're doing a seminar on how to write decent or at least believable slash porn in fanfiction."

At that, several excited whispers drifted through the crowd. Up at the podium, Mr. Allen had taken back his megaphone.

"Students with their first name starting with the letters A through L, go with Tino and Berwald. Everyone else, stay here. We'll trade off at noon."

Jennifer sighed in relief. Next to her, Megan was cursing the letter M for being after L. Merka, who was technically also named Jennifer, smirked and patted Megan's back.

"R'ght," the tall bespectacled Swede mumbled as he and Tino led their students indoors to a lecture theatre. "Th's 's th' "S'xu'l Cl'r'f'c't'n" cl'ss. W'r' tr'st'ng th't y'u 'lr'dy kn'w th' m'ch'n'cs b'h'nd s'x." Jennifer frowned, raising her hand.

"Er, I can't understand you," she said, with quite a few others nodding in agreement.

Tino sighed. "He's saying that we're trusting that you already know the mechanics behind sex, so we're not going to explain that. Are we correct in our assumptions?"

There were several nods, but little Anita Khok raised her hand. "I'm not too certain about it," she admitted.

Tino and Berwald looked at her. "D' y'u w'nt t' sp'l h'r 'nn'c'nc', 'r sh'll I?" the Swede grunted.

"Eh, I'm more easily understandable, no offence," the Finn replied cheerily.

"N'n' t'k'n." Berwald flushed pink and busied himself with their presentation notes. Tino took a couple of deep breaths before smiling at the students again.

"Well, what aren't you certain about, Miss Khok?" he asked in a sugary sweet voice – that is, if there were cyanide crystals mixed in with the sugar.

"Er… like… how the guys do it. I know what happens to a girl… but where do you put it in a guy?" The girl was blushing furiously; Jennifer wondered if she had ever read an R-18 rated yaoi doujinshi.

Tino was blushing slightly as well. "Er, the anus," he replied, somehow saying that with a straight face. Everyone else burst into laughter.

"E-excuse me?" Anita stammered, her face redder than a fire engine. "You put the…"

"The penis into the anus. Yes."

"Wouldn't that hurt?"

"That's what we're here to talk about today." Tino and Berwald fiddled with their laptop and pulled up a presentation titled 'Dubious Lube (And Other Aspects of Bad Gay Porn)'. "This lecture, we will point out some common mistakes in your written gay sex scenes," Tino said cheerily. "Well, first off, how many people here have written any sort of sex scene? Any sort of pairing."

Several hands went up. Jennifer was one of them, and she was slightly regretting writing that USUK porn fic where Arthur and Alfred were frolicking about in a sundae and – let's leave it there.

"All right. And how many of those involved… what was Japan's term for it? Yowchy?" Jennifer (and several other students) snickered at that.

"It's _yaoi_," Cristiana corrected. Tino nodded.

"Yes, yaoi. How many of you write yaoi… er, porn?" Many of the hands stayed up. "What about het?" Several hands went down. "All right, then. What about… what was Japan's term for lesbian pairings? Yuri? Something like that. I'm just curious; that's rather rare compared to yaoi."

"I've read femslash," someone said in the front row. "I haven't written any."

"I see." Tino gestured for Berwald to change slides. "This seminar is only one of two on these subjects. Today, we're focusing on slash. To begin, how many of you are aware of the basic preparations that must take place before anal sex happens? And I'm not talking about foreplay."

Silence. No one wanted to talk about it. Finally, Franklin Livingston spoke up hesitantly. "I read about it on Wikipedia, but doesn't the receiving partner sometimes need to do stuff like… get an enema?" Pause. "I'm not gay!"

"We never said you were," Tino replied cheerily, while several female students grinned. "And that is actually a good idea because by getting rid of faeces, an enema reduces bacterial transmission and consequently, risk of infection." He paused, watching several students squirm in their seats (those grinning female students were looking solemn by now). "Oh yes, infections. Don't even get me started on the amount of fanfiction I have read where two of us Nations do it and face no physical, emotional, or social repercussions afterwards. That's just… completely unrealistic."

"But it's just so gross to talk about STDs," Kitty Smith declared petulantly.

"But it's also life, isn't it?" Tino grinned. "Believe it or not, several of us Nations have contracted diseases through these types of behaviours – granted, most of us got them because our citizens were getting them at alarming rates – remember syphilis? All of us Europeans had it at some point in our lives. The Vargases, Feliks, Arthur, and Ludwig blamed Francis. Francis blamed the Vargases, The Netherlands blamed Antonio, Ivan blamed Feliks, Sadiq blamed everyone who was Christian – or Francis, depending on the day of the week – and when Arthur was expanding his empire into Polynesia, those natives blamed him."

"I'm not too surprised about everyone blaming France," Eva Danielson giggled. Jennifer and several others nodded in agreement.

"What about AIDS, though?" Merka wondered aloud. "Do you Nations have AIDS?" Tino frowned, pursing his lips.

"Er, that's still a sensitive topic for us," he said. "Especially with the African countries and Alfred. Let's move on to dubious lube, shall we? Because that seems to be the most popular grievance within your fanfics."

Jennifer squirmed some more. Did Tino read that sundae fic?

"This next slide," the Finn said cheerfully (with a side of cyanide), "lists all the lubricants that we have seen in fanfiction that_ just don't work_ realistically. So… let's see. Melted sugar, whipped cream, melted ice cream, blood, grapefruit juice, shampoo, conditioner, paint, _hydrochloric acid_, peanut butter, honey, chocolate (melted or not), melted cheese, _petrol_, _any_ sort of alcohol, water, sunscreen, mayonnaise, _bamboo shoots_, mango pulp, _half-eaten cherry lollipops_, glue, coca-cola, _curry_, ink, vegetable soup, _bat guano_, hair gel, _Dermabond surgical glue_, urine, vanilla extract, mud, coffee, sand, _molten metal_, ketchup, barbecue sauce, deodorant, seawater, dirt, spirit gum, jam, and _pesticides_. Can _anyone _tell me why some of these cannot be used as lubricants for anal sex?"

There was a long silence, before Laurel Martin raised her hand. "Um, glue wouldn't work because it's sticky, and you don't want something… well… glued there."

"Very true. So why do people use it in fanfiction? Any other takers?"

"Blood is a coagulant," Franklin Livingston replied immediately. "It gets sticky and clumpy outside of the body."

"Damn, so that means I can't use it?" Kiril Loris, the vampire student with dripping chocolate eyes, asked disappointedly.

"Don't even think about it, leech boy," Jennifer piped up. Kiril gave her a stare that was probably supposed to be 'watch your mouth, mortal, or I'll bite', but failed dramatically because of his melted chocolate eyes. Ah, the prices one paid for bad description.

"What about the sugary substances? Whipped cream and ice cream, for examples?" Tino asked sweetly, and Jennifer's heart sank. So he _did_ read the sundae fic. "Sugar does not work for either gender, because it causes yeast infections with females and discomfort for males. You see, when sugary substances dry, it causes something known as a 'sticky mess'. I know, I'm popping your kinky sugary fantasies. But honestly, take the time to think about it. If you don't want to put the substance that you're going to use as a lube up your nose, then don't put it in your arse. The rectum is a semi-permeable membrane; treat it carefully."

Kriss Kross raised her hand. "What about saliva?" she asked. "Would saliva work as lube?"

Tino nodded. "You'll need a lot of it, though. Saliva can be used as a lubricant, but you'd need the time and patience for that. Most fanfiction sex scenes are too rushed, too heat-of-the-moment for something of that kind." He paused. "The same idea goes for egg whites. They work, but they take too much time to prepare."

"So what _can_ you use, other than the lube you get at stores?" Merka asked.

Tino changed the slide. "Butter, lard, and cooking oil have been historically used as lube," he read, looking up. "Aside from that, the stuff that you might find in the same aisle as the condoms will also work. That, or _a lot_ of saliva. How do you prepare someone for this sort of thing? Well, I suppose stretching the muscles a little prior to the act might help. That's where lube comes in – to ease friction."

He then paused, watching the students' expressions. One or two of them seemed to be taking notes, while some of the more innocent ones were cowering in their seats.

"And what about forgoing lube completely? Ah, that's possible, but it takes a lot of practice. Chances are, if your pornfic features Gilbert Beilschmidt slamming his five-metre-long dick up Roderich Edelstein's virginal, quote-unquote 'love star', there will be _a lot_ of bleeding and tearing happening. And Roderich would probably be dying, too, if the five metre dick is anything to go by." Several students winced, and Azure fainted.

"Let's move on to some other common misconceptions. First of all, sperm are _not_ guided missiles, no matter how metaphoric you're trying to be. They are not weapons of mass destruction. The average human male or Nation in a male human form will only ejaculate at most five millilitres of semen – that's a teaspoon, for the Americans. Therefore, there's not going to be loads of white stuff oozing all over the place. However, within those five millilitres are a couple billion sperm – if they are all guided missile-like impregnators, then why are there so many of them? Also, there are no hymens in the anus. If there were, then going to the bathroom for _that_ purpose would be a painful, bloody ordeal."

More wincing. Tino smirked slightly, but continued with the lecture. "Let's see. No, Gilbert does not have a five-metre-long penis. That would be physically impossible, not to mention painful for the person on the receiving end. Size doesn't always matter, you know. Hm… what else… giving a blowjob to the person on top right after sex – er, think about it. Do you really want to suck something that was up your arse five seconds ago? I didn't think so." More disgusted looks and winces, as Berwald changed the slide once more.

"Th' pr'st't'," the Swede grunted, and the Finn's eyes lit up.

"Ah, yes, yes!" he exclaimed happily, clapping his hands like a hyperactive five-year-old. "The prostate. It's a very sensitive spot, I'll give it that, and it can help cause an orgasm – but there seems to be a misconception amongst you females that for a – did Kiku call it a ukulele? – ah, _uke_, thank you, Miss Breigher – for a _uke_ to climax, the – was the term _seme_? – has to hit the prostate. First off, the prostate is a gland embedded in the muscles in the rectum and is about the size of a walnut, so it's pretty hard to find. It is also just past the anus, so the person on top would probably have to go in at an angle in order to hit it straight on – and since your fanfics tend to portray the seme as being balls-deep into the uke, there's no way that he's hitting the prostate directly. He might be brushing past it, but not hitting it. Unless he has a small dick." Some of the guys snickered. "Hey, I said size wasn't everything! Also, please don't call this place the 'magic button' or the 'spiritual centre'. It's not; it's just a gland that secretes a milky white fluid that is part of semen."

Another slide change. "All the buggering aside," continued the Finn, in a tone that would have made Arthur Kirkland proud, "it's a common assumption that gay couples have anal sex all the time, rarely with foreplay. Already, I've pointed out that there's quite a bit of prep work to do before the dick goes in, so do you think this sort of intercourse happens often? Nope. Most gay couples prefer just to frot, mutually masturbate, or have oral sex."

He paused once more. "All right, now to one of the most notorious forms of slash fanfiction – the male pregnancy fic."

Several students straightened up in their seats. One of the USUK fangirls raised her hand. "Hey, Mr. Väinämöinen, I have a question about that. Is Mr. Allen Alfred and Arthur's lovechild?"

Tino blinked, while the non-USUKers groaned and slammed their heads against their desks repeatedly.

"Sh'ld c'rt'nly h'p' n't," Berwald snapped, while Tino looked rather lost for an answer.

"Er, yes, what he said!" the Finn stammered. "Male pregnancy. Most of these are done very badly because of several reasons. First of all, you need a semi-plausible pseudoscience or magical explanation for how the 'mother', who does not possess a uterus or a vagina, can manage to carry a baby to term and then deliver it." He paused again. "Judging by your youth, most of you don't have enough scientific knowledge to create that semi-plausible pseudoscience explanation. And the only person who gets away with magic is Arthur, whose spells usually fail."

Some students were starting to look sheepish as Tino continued to rant. "Why don't we move onto the characterisation of the 'mother' during his pregnancy? First of all, with the possible exception of Feliks Łukasiewcz, almost all the male Nations in Hetalia can be characterised as strong, masculine characters. Badly-written male pregnancy fics usually warp the 'mother's' personality until he is little more than a snivelling, weak damsel in distress. There are _pregnant women_ who are manlier than some of the pregnant male Nations that I have read about in your stories."

"But in the end, hasn't male pregnancy occurred in Hetalia?" someone asked. "I mean, look at Alfred's states..."

"Alfred's states are never explicitly shown in Canon, aside from representing parts of his physical appearance," Tino replied automatically. "And before anyone asks, I don't know anything about Hong Kong or Australia's parentage. Like Berwald said before, Mr. Allen is _not_ one of Arthur's children – if you ask him, he will probably hurt you."

"Hurt," scoffed Lydiacatfish. "More like _maim_."

Jennifer had to agree with that. Based on the rumours about that Charlie Tenterden bloke… yeah, don't mess with Mr. Allen or Mr. Hugh.

* * *

"I actually liked that seminar," Jennifer remarked to Merka at lunch. Francis had prepared croissant sandwiches; all of the students were checking them for date-rape drugs.

"It was informative," Merka agreed. "Who knew that some people have used cherry lollipops as lube?"

"Well, I'm glad that didn't work," Kriss added. "I mean… shoving a lollipop _there_…"

"We're trying to_ eat_, Kriss," Jennifer remarked dryly. "Oh, here comes Megan. Hey, what happened to you?" That last part was directed to Megan, who had just staggered to their table and dropped heavily into an empty seat, clutching her arm and wincing.

"I feel like I've been run over by a giant fucking steamroller," the alien complained as she rested her head against the table. "What's for lunch? I'm so hungry that I could eat one of you if you don't tell me what we're having for lunch."

"Croissant sandwiches _à la fran__çaise_," Jennifer replied, passing over a platter of croissant sandwiches to her. "Check yours for roofies prior to eating."

Megan sniffed her sandwich gingerly and took a bite. "Ah well, I don't mind sleeping with Francis. I'm too fucking hungry to care about getting drugged, anyways."

Jennifer, Merka, and Kriss looked at each other darkly. "Francis had syphilis," Kriss pointed out, "and God knows what else."

"Herpes, probably," Merka mused. "But then again, we're not sure if he still _has_ syphilis."

Megan stared at them. "Where'd you learn this? The sex-ed seminar?" They nodded. "You bastards. Don't spoil it!"

"Oh, _fine_," huffed Jennifer. "But you gotta tell us what happens in GrammarBootCamp. We're not really looking forward to it."

"Whoever looks forward to GrammarBootCamp is either a very athletic Grammar Nazi," Megan declared, glaring across the cafeteria at the Nerd Group, "or a masochist." At that, they all looked at Karen DuLay at the Europe table.

"How many times has she attempted to give Ludwig cookies, now?" Jennifer wondered.

"Oh, I heard Shinbun's keeping a tally," Merka said through a mouthful of croissant. "She's up to about forty-five."

* * *

There were several things that Jennifer (and all other IAHF students) had learned to fear. Bled was one of them. Mr. Allen/Hugh was another. Ludwig Beilschmidt was another. Tests, quizzes, and homework were another. Mochi Concentration Camp was another.

Now, they would add another thing to their list: GrammarBootCamp.

Mr. Allen was glaring at them as they filed into rows in front of him. Now that Jennifer was on the other side of the schedule, she envied Megan.

"We'll start with fifty push-ups," the Course Coordinator snapped. He was dressed for the occasion in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, looking like one of those high school gym teachers who like to blow the whistle to deafen students.

With a lot of groaning, the class dropped down and started doing push-ups. By her fifth, Jennifer's arms were hurting. Damn it, forty-five more to go...

"Conjugate!" Mr. Allen snapped at poor little Anita, who already looked ready to faint. "Conjugate the verb 'to be' in the second person, present tense!"

"Er... one is?" Anita asked hesitantly.

"Incorrect. Run from here to the stadium and back, and then continue the push-ups." Mr. Allen paused, and looked at a particularly big and hungry-looking Hungarian Mochi. "Hungry, follow her to make sure she does it. If not, feel free to eat her."

"Meep!" the Hungarian Mochi exclaimed, bouncing after a terrified Anita. Jennifer winced.

The stakes had gone up. The Asian Anglophile tried to remember what she had learnt in English class, but her grammar knowledge seemed to like playing hide-and-seek today.

"Conjugate," repeated Mr. Allen to Azure, "the verb 'to be' in the second person, present tense."

"You are," Azure replied, wincing as Edelsten bounced on her back. "Fuck! Get off, you little... eek! Not the tail! Stop grabbing my tail you little blobby bastard! That fucking hurts!"

"You were correct, but insubordination earns you a lap around Pirate England's ship," Mr. Allen growled.

"But-but-but that's in the middle of the lake!" the cat-girl complained.

"You shouldn't have signed up as part-cat, then," Mr. Allen replied smugly.

Cursing at the Course Coordinator in a series of enraged meows and hisses, Azure slunk off with the grace of a recently electrocuted cat.

"Edelsten, you know what to do," Mr. Allen instructed before turning to Kriss. "List the personal pronouns, singular and plural."

Kriss collapsed mid-push-up. "I, me... you, you, he, him, she, her... it, it... we, us, you, you, they, them," she gasped.

Mr. Allen nodded, frowning. "Conjugate the verb 'to go' in past tense and first person plural," he commanded.

"We had gone?" Kriss wondered.

"Wrong tense!" Mr. Allen crowed. "That is the past perfect tense. Four laps around the stadium, now!" By now, Anita was jogging back, throwing wary glances back at Hungry as she ran. Mr. Allen repeated the question to Anastasia Debby, who got it right with 'we went'.

Jennifer felt a dull pain in her back. "Meepmeep!" Endland growled in her ear, ordering her to continue to do push-ups. Groaning, Jennifer acquiesced.

"Twenty-one... fuck, Endland, stop bouncing!" the girl cried.

* * *

When GrammarBootCamp finally ended at dinnertime, Jennifer hurt everywhere – even in places that she was sure weren't supposed to hurt, like her armpits and the inside of her mouth.

"Did Mr. Allen kick your ass, too?" Megan asked pityingly as she patted Jennifer's back (and back_side_, but Jennifer chose to ignore that) at dinner. "That guy could play soccer for England." Jennifer winced in agreement as she sat down.

"Charlie Tenterden liked it, though," Kriss pointed out. Apparently the redhead had been let out of the Golag just for the seminars; he was back in the Mochi Concentration Camp right now eating bread crusts and trying to hit on Laurel Martin (who had gotten in for attempting to tackle Prussia during the Geography test on Friday).

Jennifer made a face. "But that's because he lusts after Mr. Hugh," she pointed out. "Which makes no sense, since Mr. Allen was here today."

"He got a boner," Merka said with a completely straight face, "because that was probably the only time Mr. Allen or Hugh will ever touch his ass, and he wanted to savour the feeling."

Jennifer nearly snorted her French Onion Soup out of her nose at that. Behind her, the Franada fans started arguing with the FrUK fans.

"Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five..." Jennifer muttered. "Four... three... two.. one..." SPLAT! A handful of bœuf bourguignon flew across the 'Atlantic Ocean' and hit a Franada fan right in the face.

"Oh, it is SO ON, bitch!" someone screamed, and the FrUK versus Franada fight began.


	9. Back in Blackmail

**Part IX**

Francis Bonnefois was having a good morning. A splendid morning, even.

Especially when Arthur entered his room and saw what he was doing. If Francis had to rate the expression slideshow on the Briton's face, he would have given it an eleven out of ten. It was _that_ good.

"Fucking hell, frog, why are you going… why are those pictures even on your computer, you pervert? Get them off!"

Francis snorted. "Oh come _on_, rosbif, you look stunning in this one, see?" He pointed to one of the pictures.

"That was so obviously tampered with!" Arthur hissed. "I am a gentleman, not a kinky whore who poses naked for the camera with a dildo up my arse!"

Francis raised both eyebrows. "Oh, really? And what about the night Bled was created, hm? I think I have a couple of those pictures –"

"NO! DELETE ALL OF THEM. _ALL OF THEM_!" Arthur tried to shove Francis away from the computer. "YOU FUCKING PERVERT!"

"I'm only telling it like it is, l'Angleterre! We all know you're a pervert at heart. Give it up!"

"Stupid-bloody-wanking-sodding–" Arthur grumbled as he deleted the pictures. Francis didn't mind; he had backed up all of those dirty pictures months ago. And if Arthur gave him any more trouble – why, it'd be child's play to exact revenge.

He could give the back-up files to a student, after all…

* * *

"Ah, bay, tsay, day, eh, ef, gay. Haa, ee, yot, ka, el, em, en, oh, pay. Koo, err, ess, tay, oo, fou. Vay, iks, üpsilon, tsett."

It was German class again, and Gilbert Beilschmidt was drilling the German alphabet into the students' minds. He even had a drill handy in case he had to do that literally.

"Everyone got that?" the Prussian asked with a grin as he stepped away from the whiteboard.

Some students nodded; others shook their heads. Jennifer was too busy wondering why the Germans pronounced their Ws like Vs.

"Repeat the alphabet, then. One mispronunciation, and you'll be writing 'Preuβen ist genial' until your hands bleed. Eins, zwei, drei!"

The class chanted the alphabet, taking great care not to mix up their Vs and Ws and pronouncing Y as "üpsilon". Afterwards, Gilbert clapped his hands sarcastically.

"Bravo, bravo. That nearly made my ears bleed, but apparently Francis's ears started bleeding after his third class, so I guess you guys did well."

Jennifer heaved a sigh of relief.

"Next up! Let's practice with pronouncing the letter W. All of you are so stuck on stodgy old English that you can't pronounce W the German way. This tongue twister better change that, or you'll run from here to Berlin and back." Saying that, he turned to the board and wrote "Wir Wiener Waschweiber würden weiβe Wäsche waschen, wenn wir wüβten, wo warmes, weiches, Wasser wäre."

Jennifer blinked, and resisted the urge to bang her head against her desk. Those damn German Ws!

"What the heck does _that_ mean?" Emmanuella Escantara demanded.

"Literally? We Viennese washerwomen would white laundry wash, if we knew where warm, soft water was," Gilbert replied with a smirk. "Doesn't it look better in German? All right – I'm going to say this, and you will repeat the tongue twister after me. Try saying this ten times fast, hah!" And off he went, saying the phrase so fast that the only thing that went through Jennifer's head was 'bwuh?' – and in a German accent, too.

It was even worse when she repeated the phrase, because she knew that she was going to spend the rest of her day mixing up her alphabet pronunciations. Ah, vunderful.

* * *

"What is wrong with you?" Megan demanded at lunch.

"Vat's vrong?" Jennifer echoed. "I don't know vat's vrong."

_Let me guess. German alphabet_? Luna Correa asked sympathetically. _You sound like you're mixing up your Vs and Ws_.

"Ja," Jennifer sighed. "Deutsch on the mind."

"Cheer up! Halloween's coming up this weekend, and there's a party to celebrate," Megan said with a grin. "I heard that Mr. Allen's inviting the Great Ghostly Choir of the Haunted Hotel."

"Ghosts?" Merka exclaimed from across the table, her face paling. "I don't like ghosts," she whimpered.

"That's not all; apparently Alfred, Arthur, and Kiku are doing the decorations."

"Fuck! I'm going to need a nightlight on Halloween," Merka hissed. "Just imagine all the creepy shit that Kiku's going to put up!"

"You know what?" Hotaru-chan exclaimed. "I bet they're probably just going to ask the Bled Pinjas to paint the school Bled for the decorations. That's fucking scary already." Even the thought caused a shiver to run up and down Jennifer's spine.

"Speaking of the Bled Pinjas," Kriss cut in, "has anyone figured out who they are?"

"I have a theory, but I'm not too sure," Jennifer replied.

"Well, I don't think it's Arthur and Alfred," Kriss said, causing Merka to good-naturedly shove her. "Hey, I'm telling it like it is! Alfred wouldn't be so pissed off about his belongings if he had painted them himself! Same goes for Arthur!"

"Dat vas Punk Arthur," Jennifer pointed out. "Dere are a lot of Arthurs around here. Not dat _I'm_ complaining."

"Yes, there's also Chibi Francis and French Revolution Francis, if I do recall," Megan mused. "Since I stayed behind after French class to ask Francis a question and those two popped out of nowhere…"

"What the hell were you asking Francis about?" Eva Danielson demanded from not too far away. "Trying to suck up – literally – for a good grade or something?"

"Psh, no," Megan scoffed. "I was asking him about the meaning of the term 'rouler un patin'."

"Isn't that 'French kissing' in French?" Shelby asked from next to Eva.

"Yeah. He defined it by doing it to me."

There was a long silence. The next minute, everyone in the Staff Section heard a cry from the student section that sounded suspiciously like the word 'ew' (or in Jennifer's case, "Ev – oh Scheiβe, vat vas 'ew' in German again?").

* * *

Francis was having a splendid day, especially since he wasn't teaching the culinary class today. Antonio was, and he was probably teaching the students how to make _arroz con leche_ or seafood _paella_.

Either that, or he was getting underage students roaring drunk on _sangria_. But Francis didn't really care, because he had a nice glass of pinot noir and a hot tub all to himself. Apparently, (no thanks to a plot hole) there was a small spa of sorts stuck in the middle of the Staff Section. It featured an onsen, a sauna, a hot tub, and a mud bath. Only the Chibi Nations went to the mud bath, to make mud pies.

Francis took another sip of wine, right when the door opened and in stormed Arthur. The Briton's expression was so stormy that the Frenchman was surprised that there weren't any waves in his tub yet.

"Ah, bonjour, l'Angleterre. Ça va?" Francis asked innocently.

"YOU FUCKING PERVERT!" Arthur screeched, in a voice that would have made a banshee cower. He was brandishing a thick manila envelope.

"Ah, yes, I _am _fucking a pervert," Francis replied, rolling his eyes. "Please tell me something I don't already know."

"Stop twisting my words around, you…" Arthur seemed incapable of coming up with a good enough insult to hurl at him, so he just flung the envelope across the tub. Francis caught it before it dented his pretty face. "You – you – I THOUGHT I DELETED THESE PHOTOS! AND NOW YOU'RE SENDING THEM TO _STUDENTS_?"

"I was about to send them to a student, yes," Francis replied with a wicked grin. "Serves you right. You shouldn't have given my phone number and email address to Sex Addicts Anonymous."

"Well, you _are_!" Arthur growled, his cheeks redder than Antonio's favourite tomato.

Francis snickered. "Well, at least I had the decency to write that at least half of the photos in the envelope were Photoshopped, ouais?"

"What – you – bloody –" Arthur screamed, launching himself at the Frenchman. Unfortunately, the hot tub was a bit larger than he'd anticipated. Francis had to admit that it was almost like watching one of Alfred's cartoons, only better. If he had to rate Arthur's spectacular mid-leap belly flop, he would have given it an eleven out of ten. It was _that_ good.

* * *

Halloween approached the Academy like a serial killer stalking a hapless victim. And that serial killer looked a lot like Alfred with a hockey mask and a chainsaw.

"What the fuck were you doing yesterday afternoon, Francis?" Gilbert Beilschmidt demanded as he, Francis, and Antonio walked through the main building, where the orientation had taken place almost two months ago. They could hear some extremely loud screams coming from the stadium – it was Tuesday morning and the students were helping Ludwig and Feliciano with some extremely important gravity tests.

"Yeah, Tino and Berwald were complaining at dinner about the lack of soundproofing in the sauna," Antonio Fernández Carriedo added innocently. He was eating a churro that he had pilfered from the cafeteria; the evening food fight was scheduled to be Spamano versus FraSpa.

"Le rosbif was splashing about," Francis sniffed. "It's not my fault he can't swim."

"He was complaining to Mr. Allen about being sexually harassed," Antonio replied, watching Alfred and Kiku hang up ribbons of crêpe paper.

"It was only CPR," Francis replied defensively. "I save his life and he accuses me of harassment. Pooh-pooh, so ungrateful."

Another scream resounded from outside, followed by a crash that shook the Academy buildings. "IVAN, STOP THUNDERING ABOUT, YOU FATASS!" Alfred screamed, causing Kiku to clutch his ears.

A pause, and then Ivan retaliated from the Staff Section. "TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, BURGER ADDICT!"

"WHY YOU –" the American stormed off to get the nukes. Kiku banged his head against a pillar several times before continuing his decorating.

"Hey, Kiku, what's the agenda for Saturday?" Gilbert asked as he and his friends walked over to the Japanese.

"Er… Alfred and Ivan are having a candy-eating contest at the party," Kiku replied. "I fear for their dental hygiene."

"I'm more concerned about a hyperactive l'Amérique running around," Francis replied. "What else? Do you have your costume ready?"

"Hai," Kiku replied. "And we're close to finishing the decorations for the Orientation Hall; Arthur-san's taking care of that." He paused. "Don't go bother him; he's been pretty shaken up about yesterday." Oh, was that a bit of steel in the Japanese man's voice? "I don't know what you did to him, but you hurt him pretty badly, Francis-san."

Francis looked a bit sheepish at that. Chastisement by Kiku usually made up for what it lacked in yelling with loads of guilt tripping.

"Ah, oui… I'll keep that in mind… Kiku." Francis shuffled from one foot to the other, walking backwards slowly. Gilbert and Antonio sniggered.

* * *

Jennifer was exhausted and aching all over; her nerves seemed to protest her every move. Distracted by the pain, she took a wrong turn to get to the cafeteria.

The first thing she noticed when she finally looked up was that she was lost. She had never been in this section of the school before, and she knew her way around most of the school pretty well by now. Her sense of direction was usually better than most people's, but today she was tired and pained from the early morning gravity testing. Galileo was right; she fell about as fast as a feather – and when dropped from the top of the commentator's booth, that feather fell pretty damn fast.

"Where am I?" she wondered to herself, staggering to the nearest door and peeking in. It was a classroom, with a giant map of Italy on the back wall and several Roman sculptures of naked women near the window. And sitting at the back next to the whiteboard was a wall.

Jennifer frowned and rubbed her eyes. What was a low-lying wall doing here in an empty classroom?

"Salv ē!" a cheery voice greeted her. It seemed to be coming from… the wall?"

"W-wha-what! Why is a wall talking to me?" Jennifer demanded, more to herself than to the wall.

"Oh come on, why can't you give Hadrian's Wall a proper greeting?" the wall demanded. "I'm just a few little chunks of bricks taken from that wall and sent here to teach Latin; I never get any love or respect anymore."

Jennifer blinked. "You're the Wall of Rome!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at it. "But… Grandpa Rome, how'd you get into a wall?"

"Oh, well... when they got the idea for this Academy, they realised they needed to bring me and the other Ancient Nations back. I got brought back as part of Hadrian's Wall, for some strange reason. Well, I think I have it better than Germania. He got brought back as a sword."

Jennifer resisted the urge to giggle. "Oh, well… that's awful. What about Mama Greece and Egypt?"

"A vase and a sarcophagus, respectively," the Rome-Wall replied. "I'll never understand why I couldn't be a statue. I'll always be ugly now! No one will ever love me! I'll be so lonely!" He wailed the last parts, and Jennifer felt a surge of pity towards him.

"Aw, do you want me to give you a hug?" the fangirl asked, while a little voice in her mind rebuked her for even thinking about hugging a wall. _Great, Jennifer_, it said_. If you want to spend your life as an asylum inmate, you're going down the right path_.

Well, there wasn't any harm in it, was there? Hadrian's Wall looked so lonely…

* * *

Workbitch Bartholomew – he said that was his name, but no one really believed him. Who in their right mind would name their kid Workbitch, after all? – was striding down the Italian Corridor. Well, the staff called it the Italian Corridor because the Latin and Italian classes were located there. He had to find his American twin brother, who apparently had more information for Mr. Allen regarding some new students scheduled to arrive after the Christmas holiday. Why Mr. Allen was worrying about them before Halloween was a mystery.

He paused at the Latin classroom, hearing a student's voice in there. Was the Rome-Wall doing Tuesday breakfast-time tutorial sessions or something? But the student wasn't speaking Latin…

He opened the door. There was a dark-haired, bespectacled girl walking towards the Rome-Wall. Workbitch muttered a string of curses under his breath – not another collapsing incident! He heard from his grandfather (who was somehow the same age as he here at this Academy. Hooray for inconsistent time) that the Rome-Wall had killed three students in Latin class last week by falling on them. Franklin, Eva, and Sabrina had all been duly resurrected after, but Workbitch wasn't going to do more paperwork to resurrect another student just yet.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, diving into the room and grabbing the girl. "Are you mad?"

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Workbitch," the Rome-Wall snapped. "She's just trying to be friendly!"

"You'll kill her!" Workbitch snapped, and the girl's eyes went wide.

"Wait, what?" she asked.

"He killed three students last week by falling on them," Workbitch replied, grabbing her wrist and dragging her out of the class, not heeding the Rome-Wall's cries for them to stay and chat. "Aren't you supposed to be at breakfast?"

"I got lost," the girl replied sheepishly, cheeks turning pink. Workbitch snorted.

"Sure, sure. Well, you're in the Italian Corridor. Retrace your steps and then take a left. The cafeteria's that way." He nodded at her.

"Thanks for saving my life," she replied. "Aren't you a staff member?"

"Workbitch Bartholomew, secretary to Mr. Allen," he answered. "And you're a student. Good day."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

"Why do you always end up in the strangest situations? I think you're going insane," Megan declared when Jennifer finished her story about the Rome-Wall at breakfast.

"Well, at least we know why the Italian and Latin students are so secretive about their classes. Especially the Latin ones. They get taught by a freaking wall," Merka pointed out.

"Wait, who rescued you?" Carolina Brown demanded as she walked past with her plate piled high with churros. "Alfred?"

"No, Mr. Allen's secretary."

"He has a secretary?" the other students demanded.

"Er, apparently he does." Jennifer shifted a little in her seat. "Let's talk about something else, okay? Like… Saturday. What are your costumes?"

"Not telling," Sally, Shelby, and Summer said together.

"My lips are zipped, girl," Taylor Drews-Garcia added from next to them.

"You'd just steal it to impress Iggy," pouted Sakura Crystal Kirkland.

"What she said, only with Su-san," giggled Yuki-Rin.

Jennifer shook her head. "What's with all the secrecy? Kriss, aren't you going as the Red Alice?" A few weeks ago when Mr. Allen had announced the date of the party, Jennifer and Kriss had immediately planned to dress as the Red and Blue Alices. Jennifer still had to find a blue top hat.

"Well, fuck yes," Kriss replied with a slightly manic grin. Megan and Merka raised their eyebrows.

"Well, I'm dressing as a prostitute," Megan replied nonchalantly.

"I'm going as Alfred," Merka added.

* * *

Francis sat down to lunch in the Staff Section and discovered an envelope on his plate. He picked it up and looked at Arthur, who raised both eyebrows in confusion. Next to him, Pirate Arthur and Punk Arthur were bickering about the best ways to cause mayhem. Policeman Arthur was eyeing his clones warily, cradling Chibi Arthur in his arms protectively.

The different variations of the Staff Members had all arrived slightly late – Arthur's clones had been the first. Then Kiku, Francis, and Antonio's clones arrived, and then Alfred's. Chibitalia and Holy Roman Empire had been in the staff from the get-go, though, and they were busy sharing pasta in a corner.

"Does anyone know who sent this?" Francis asked his own lookalikes. French Revolution Francis shrugged and slouched in his seat. Chibi Francis wanted to open it. Vichy Francis said nothing. He rarely talked, anyways.

"Do you think it's Arthur?" Gilbert asked, peering over Francis's shoulder as the Frenchman opened the letter. The stationery inside was glowing Bled. "You know, revenge…?"

"I don't want to think about that," Francis replied shortly. He was still on Kiku's guilt-trip, after all. "Just… oh, lovely."

"It's a threatening message!" Antonio exclaimed, beautifully pointing out the obvious.

"At least they had the decency to use cut-out letters," Gilbert added, reading the message. "_Publish the photos of us, and there will be retribution_. _From, the Bled Pinjas_. Well, they're certainly cheerful about it."

"What pictures?" Antonio wondered aloud, causing Francis to look up at him sharply. "Naw, they couldn't be the ones I found on the deck of the hot tub yesterday, right?"

Francis's face paled; the letter shook in his hands.

"There were pictures of only one pairing in that envelope," he said breathlessly. "The ones taken the night Bled was created."

"Well, you're fucked," Gilbert replied.

"Tell me something I don't know."

* * *

**Notes:** AND THE DRAMA STEPS UP. Which couple's pictures were in that envelope, I wonder? I'm hoping to resolve the Bled Pinja arc by Halloween, so I don't think you need to wait too long.


	10. Nobody Expects the Alex Inquisition

**Notes: **Vambiolaria belongs to **Meir Brin**, creator of Hogwarts Fanfiction Academy. "Hero" belongs to Enrique Inglesias. "Elephant Love Medley" belongs to Moulin Rouge. "All You Need is Love" belongs to the Beatles. The Spanish Inquisition belongs to history and Monty Python – but in this case, it's the Alex Inquisition, which is **FullmetalShinigami21096**'s brilliant idea. I'm sorry I couldn't make your character one of the trio, but the fact that I had three students named Alex-something was too good to pass up. Tim the Enchanter and the killer rabbit also belong to Monty Python (Worship the Python; it is very Monty). Many thanks!

* * *

**Part X**

"I could be your hero, baby!" Alfred F. Jones was singing again, causing Arthur Kirkland to cringe and slam his head against the desk. "I could kiss away the pain…"

"Shut up and teach, you incompetent fool!" the Briton snarled, smacking the back of Alfred's head.

"You're no fun, Artie!" Alfred pouted, and the USUK fans screamed happily.

Yup, it was Platonic Love class again. Arguably one of the most entertaining classes at IAHF, it often started with Alfred acting like a fool and Arthur rebuking him for it. The two never physically fought, but Arthur's verbal barbs stung worse than a slap, anyways.

Today's lecture was something along the lines of "How to Tell the Difference between Love and Lust". The USUK shippers were fired up (but then again, they always were for this class) and bouncing in their seats; everyone else was there to take notes and laugh at Alfred's amusing presentations.

"Pass up your essays, then, on friends with benefits," Arthur instructed, and the students did so with much trepidation. "All right. Your exams are coming up the week before Christmas, when the semester ends for the winter holidays. Need I remind you that you must pass this class in order to take International Relations – which, although you will have Monsieur Francis 'Sex Addict' Bonnefois for a teacher, focuses on bilateral and multilateral relations between Nations."

The students sat up in their seats. Arthur and Alfred grinned.

"Oh yeah, and please study for our exam, okay? Even though Artie's writing it, so it won't be as awesome?" Alfred asked, and both Nations put on almost identical puppy-dog looks. The USUK fangirls squealed, and even some non-USUK fans d'awwed at Arthur trying to look like a kicked puppy.

"Alright, back to business," Arthur then snapped, dropping the expression with a grimace. "The difference between love and lust. Most of you, because of your age and hormonal nature, aren't aware that there's a difference between the two."

"What do you mean?" Sabrina demanded, pouting her perfect pink lips. "I'm sure I can tell the difference between… whatever those are."

Arthur's facepalm could have made Captain Kirk proud. "That's exactly the reason why we're teaching you this," he grumbled. "First off, when I say 'love', what do you think of?"

"HAPPILY EVER AFTER!" Sakura Kirkland cried, "WITH YOU, IGGY!"

Alfred snorted. "Happily ever after and Arthur don't mix. Try again."

Sara Parker raised her hand. "When you say 'love', I think of 'hot monkey sex'!" she exclaimed with a perverse grin, causing several students to inch away from her.

"WAS THAT MY BRO YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?" Alfred screeched, suddenly defensive. Jennifer clutched at her ears.

"Calm down, you wanker!" Arthur huffed, pushing Alfred into a chair. "All of you. Shut up and listen." Everyone acquiesced.

Breathing heavily, Arthur turned and wrote 'Love' and 'Lust' on the whiteboard. "Love," he said as he capped the pen and turned around to face them. "Love can be defined as an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment. It has several contexts: Philosophically, it embodies all virtues. Religiously, it is the basis of existence. Scientifically, it is an evolved state of our primal instinct to survive, stemming from the need to have a mate and to stay together against dangers. Love runs the gamut from generic pleasure to intense attraction – but as you know, in this class we focus on the platonic aspect."

"Yeah, Artie's notes here say that there are a lot of different kinds of love, like romantic love, sexual love, familial love, and religious love…" Alfred added, folding the notes into paper airplanes. Arthur cuffed him.

"In other terms, love is an emotion that connects two people together through spiritual and mental intimacy. Love is –"

"Love is a many-splendored thing!" Alfred cried suddenly, cutting across Arthur's lecture. "Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

"Oh, please, don't start that again," Arthur groaned.

"All you need is love!" Alfred sang. "All you need is love!"

"All you need is love, love!" the students chimed in. "Love is all you –"

"This is _not_ the 'Beatles Sing-Along Class'!" Arthur snapped. "I love the Beatles, too, but we need to finish the lesson first!" The class fell silent immediately. "Love," hissed Arthur in a voice that clearly suggested hatred towards the students, "falls more on the emotional and spiritual side of attraction. This is because it can be used to define relations between people who aren't lovers. For example, take Alfred and Matthew's brotherly love for each other. They don't necessarily want to shag each other –" The USCan shippers hissed. "– but they can easily say that they love each other."

"How about this?" Alfred piped up. "Raise your hands if you have a pet." Several hands went up. "You love your pet, right?" There were nods. "But you don't want to… do _that_ with your pet, right?" Gregory Bob Walton looked extremely disturbed at that. "Thought so. There's one difference between love and lust."

"But what about a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Natashia Fernandez asked hesitantly. "Is that love or lust?"

"Relationships are a combination of romantic love with a bit of lust," Arthur replied. "First relationships are often more lust or infatuation-based relationships – it takes experience to form a relationship that adds mental, emotional, and spiritual intimacy to physical attraction, the foundation of a romantic relationship. That's why 'love at first sight' is not a very realistic form of love – it's more 'lust at first sight', if anything else."

"How would you define the Special Relationship, then?" Karin Guarez asked from the front row. "And relations between Nations in general – would that be love or lust?"

"The Special Relationship is more familial love if anything else," Arthur said immediately. "Alfred is my little brother; I raised him from a colony." The American looked a bit sheepish as a shadow flickered across Arthur's face for a few moments. "Now we collaborate on issues and events together, but I've basically stepped back and let him be the superpower." There was a slight hint of bitterness in the Briton's voice as he said that.

"And about other relations," Alfred cut in before Arthur could start ranting about the 1776 revolution, "I think that most of the time, countries form alliances to support each other if war breaks out. Based on that, they then become closer to each other through trade and cultural exchange."

"So if you look at it from our perspective, it starts out like any human relationship," Arthur finished.

"Let's talk about lust then!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed. "To begin with, who is your favourite Nation? I won't get mad if you don't say my name, I swear!"

"WE LOVE YOU, IGGY!" the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles exclaimed, standing up and making hearts with their hands at Arthur, who turned red and violently gestured for them to sit.

"And I think you're great, Alfred," Carolina Brown added in a small voice.

"Gilbert is so awesome!" Laurel Martin, who had been released from the Golag a day early (she apparently bribed the Mochi guards with raw eggs and bacon), sighed.

"No, Ludwig's way better," Karen DuLay interjected, with a dreamy expression in her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Why do you like us in this way?" Alfred asked.

"Because you guys are hot, duh!" Rachael exclaimed. She paused. "Not that I'm expressing my opinion!"

Jennifer snorted. Sure, and the Fluffy Mint Bunnies were herbivores. Those little buggers might be cute (Mitsuki Horenake had passed out when she saw one chasing after a butterfly by the lake the other day), but they could put the Vorpal Rabbit of Caerbannog to shame when it came to attacking students. Jennifer still bore the scars from a Tuesday encounter with one of them.

"Yeah, sure," Alfred nodded. "You like us because we're attractive. Anything bad that we might do, you would waive because we look good. If we looked ugly, you wouldn't even be paying attention to us."

"Yes, and because I have lusters, I often get pictured in very compromising poses," Arthur added sourly. Jennifer blushed furiously, remembering her huge folder of Arthur pictures from certain Japanese picture websites.

"So basically, lust is heavily based on what people see on the outside," Alfred continued.

"It puts physical needs–" Arthur added.

" –Before anything else, even the partner's physical needs," Alfred pointed out.

"Lust is short term and focuses on self-satisfaction –" Arthur continued.

" –compared to love, which requires discipline and commitment so that both parties can mentally and spiritually help each other." Alfred looked slightly winded. "Artie, why are we finishing each other's sentences?"

"I don't know. Continue the lesson."

The USUK fangirls sighed happily.

* * *

"Oh, it's you again," Mr. Allen groaned as he looked up to see Eledhwen Elerossiel. It was Thursday night; he was starting to feel a little bit like Mr. Hugh. "What bad news do you have this time?"

The PPC Agent sighed, rolled her eyes (something she picked up from her partner), and handed him the paper. "They have the Vambiolaria bomb. The DMSE&R has just confirmed it."

"The Mary Sues have the Vambiolaria bomb," echoed Mr. Allen.

Eledhwen nodded. "They're developing more lethal ones, but what they have right now is a bomb that explodes Glitter everywhere. And the Glitter is infected with the Vambiolaria virus."

"Does it seek out the dominant character, or is it indiscriminate?" Mr. Allen wondered, reading the paper with a shaking hand.

"I think it's an equal-opportunity infector," Eledhwen replied, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"You're a right ray of sunshine, you are," Mr. Allen replied with a scowl. She merely smirked and opened her portal, disappearing once more. "A right fucking ray of sunshine," Mr. Allen added as soon as she disappeared. He looked at the paper again, feeling a headache coming on.

The next moment, Mr. Hugh sat at the desk, reading the paper worriedly. "I can't have the staff know," he muttered to himself. "Not now. The weapons so far are nonlethal. Is there a way to stop the arms race?" He sighed. Talking to himself again, it seemed. "No, I don't know. I really don't."

* * *

Lunch at IAHF on Friday teemed with excitement. Their classes for the week had ended, and everyone was looking forward to tomorrow night's party.

"Elisabeta really knows how to scream her head off," Merka commented sympathetically as Jennifer glumly ate her sushi for lunch. Dinner was scheduled to be yaki udon, shrimp tempura, and beef teriyaki with rice. The food fight was Giripan versus Turkpan, and Kriss had plans to take cover in the library with her food and a copy of Emperor Hirohito's diary. "Why did she yell at you for turning in that essay late?"

"Oh, it was on why I shouldn't fall asleep in class," Jennifer replied glumly. "Remember last week, during the Europe test?"

"Oh yeah," Merka grinned. "Get some more sleep, stupid."

"You try sleeping through Megan moaning in her sleep." Jennifer rolled her eyes. "And if it's not Megan, it's Gilbird and Pierre's Awesome Nocturnal Choir. They've been singing Kate Nash's 'Birds' – or at least, they've been trying to sing that part about birds shitting on your head. I thought owls were the only nocturnal birds."

"Well, there are nighthawks," Tori Troutman pointed out. Jennifer groaned and nearly put her face in the wasabi bowl.

Kriss came bouncing over. "Hey, Jennifer, you got the Blue outfit done?" Jennifer looked up, raising both eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah, I got the hat. Just need to find blue roses… yeah. You done with your costume?"

"I got it together weeks ago!" Kriss grinned. "What are you going to be?" she asked Sara Parker.

"Charizard, fuck yeah," the girl replied with a lopsided grin.

"Cheerful," Kriss replied, sticking out her tongue at the other girl in an amazing show of maturity. "Well, I'm off to sit with that other person who likes Asakiku… somewhere over there…" she waved vaguely in the direction of the Asia table. "Yeah. Bye."

Jennifer sighed and looked down at her sushi again.

* * *

"So, like, ohmaigosh, Liet! That is like totally cute on you!" Feliks Łukasiewcz, Polish Plumber Extraordinaire, giggled as he watched his Lithuanian friend Toris Lorinatis stand there awkwardly in a pink tutu.

Yes, a pink tutu.

"…Er… I don't… really…" Toris mumbled, his face rivalling the tutu in pinkness. "It's… well… it's pink."

"But pink is, like, totally your colour! Come on, Liet!" Feliks grinned and propped himself on his elbows, his well-manicured nails tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Ooh, you could, like, totally put roses in your hair…"

The door opened, and Nataliya Arlovskaya stepped into the room with a giant box. "Halloween costumes," she said simply, opening the box. "Here's the ones that the Headmaster designed for us."

Feliks leaned in and pulled out a yellow striped jacket. "Yellow? But, like, why isn't there any, like pink? Like, what are we supposed to, like, be?"

The Belarusian woman shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?" she asked. "It's the Headmaster's choice. He said that you ought to carry this." She tossed him a green… creature… that looked like the spawn of Flying Mint Bunny, a boar, and a dragon.

"Like, worst costume ever! Liet and I were, like, totally going to be ballerinas!" Feliks pouted.

Toris had been gratefully pulling out his costume. "Oh, good, a hat and a satchel," he mumbled. "This… I think I might look better in this. Thanks, Nat."

"No problem," she replied, raising both eyebrows at his outfit.

* * *

"NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" screamed Alexandra Reynolds. She wore a giant red hat and a set of red robes; she was flanked by Alexandria Russell and Alexandria Peterson.

"It's more like the Alexandria Inquisition," Alexandria Peterson pointed out cheerily.

"Well, I'm Alexan_dra_, so that doesn't count," Alexandra retorted.

"Then it could be the Alex Inquisition!" Alexandria Russell exclaimed happily, waving her Keyblade around. Well, it wasn't really a Keyblade, but a blunted sword attached to a key ring. Sealand really didn't know his video games.

"All right, then! Let's practice our lines. One, two, three!" Alexandra exclaimed.

All three of them shouted, "NOBODY EXPECTS THE ALEX INQUISITION!"

"Our chief weapon is surprise!" Alexandra added. "Surprise and fear – no, wait, our two weapons are fear and surprise – no wait, our three weapons are fangirling, fear, and surprise – no, wait, our four weapons are radioactive scones, fangirling, fear, and surprise… NOW GIVE US OUR CANDY!" That last part was screamed so loudly that a passing Ukraine Mochi meeped in fear and bounced away.

"Radioactive scones? Since when did we have radioactive scones?" Alexandria Russell wondered aloud.

"Don't question it!" Alexandria Peterson pitched in.

* * *

"And what exactly are you?" Megan demanded, looking at Luna Fernández Correa.

_A flamenco dancer_, Luna replied, looking at Megan's poufy red dress. _Yourself_?

"A prostitute," Megan replied smugly, sticking out a leg. "I'm a can-can dancer for the Moulin Rouge, baby!"

_We're pretty much wearing the same sort of dress_, Luna noted with a sigh.

"Then we can both be can-can dancers together!" Megan exclaimed happily.

Jennifer rolled her eyes amusedly and put on her blue top hat. There were blue roses wound around the brim, and she wore a poufy dress reminiscent of the one in Alice in Wonderland. However, hers had diamonds all over the apron and collar.

The door to their room opened, and Kriss flounced in with a sword and a matching red dress (only with spades and bloodstains all over hers). "Hello, _Blue_," she purred, grinning like a serial killer. Well, she was dressed as one. "How are you? Forgive the pun, but we're gonna have some bloody awful _fun_!"

Jennifer resisted the urge to facepalm. "Where'd you get the sword?" she asked.

Kriss dropped her persona for a few moments. "Oh, I found it in the German classroom, on Gilbert's desk."

Jennifer raised both eyebrows. "I think you took the Germania-Sword," she breathed. Sure enough, the sword seemed to be exuding silent grumpiness; the sapphires in the hilt seemed to glare at them like Germania would have if he had been human.

"Oh, damn," Kriss whistled.

* * *

The party started at six o'clock P.M., not when Gilbert walked in dressed as a devil. But he walked in right at six, so that was debatable.

"Oh, Arthur, bite me," Sakura Crystal Kirkland sighed dreamily, swooning in the direction of Arthur as he walked past in a blue mini top hat and cloak. "You make Edward Cullen look like a leech!" the fangirl moaned from the ground, where she had fallen after missing Arthur by a centimetre.

"Oh my god, Sakura, you stole my costume!" Summer gasped in horror, pointing to the other girl's maid outfit. "It was my idea to dress as a maid!"

"No, it was mine!" Yuki-Rin screamed, tugging at her own too-short maid outfit. "You bitch!"

It turned out that at least a third of the students had dressed up as maids, something that Jennifer found hilarious. She and Kriss were walking side-by-side; Kriss was dragging the Germania-Sword along. It had gotten too heavy for her to wave it about sometime mid-afternoon.

"NOBODY EXPECTS THE ALEX INQUISITION!" the three Alexes screamed as they charged towards a table piled with candy. Alfred and Ivan were sitting there, glaring at each other. Alfred had his chainsaw chained to his chair; Ivan had left his teapot with Chinese demon Yao Wang.

"All right, Dormouse and Jason, I want a fair competition, all right?" Doctor Roderich Edelstein snapped as he looked at his stopwatch. "On the count of three, then. One, two –"

Arthur swooped out of nowhere and bit Alfred on the neck. The USUK fangirls squealed. In the commotion, the Alex Inquisition made off with half of the candy.

"SABOTAGE!" Alfred screamed, as Arthur went off to talk to Phantom Francis and Kitsune Kiku. "RODDY, I WAS SABOTAGED! START IT OVER!"

"Well, we don't seem to have enough candy anymore," Ivan pointed out, as several other students snuck candies from the table (and a fair lot congregated around the Alex Inquisition for a share of the booty). "Let's take the pumpkin pies from that table over there and compete with them, da?"

"You're so on, man!" Alfred exclaimed, bouncing out of his seat and grabbing the pies.

* * *

"Nice outfit." Jennifer looked behind her to see Workbitch Bartholomew, dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. "Blue looks good on you."

"You're being sarcastic, right?" Jennifer asked, folding her arms across her chest and blushing. Kriss muttered something about going to steal some candy from the Alex Inquisition. "I mean, I'm like… ew." She frowned and facepalmed. "No, that wasn't the right adjective."

Workbitch snorted. "And that's why Mary Sues exist," he replied candidly. "They come from girls like yourself, who have a bad self-image and believe that turning themselves absolutely perfect will let that special someone notice them."

"I don't have a bad self-image!" Jennifer denied. "I mean, I just think I'm fat and stupid… wait, I just contradicted myself, didn't I?" At that, she laughed, and Workbitch hid a smile behind a gloved hand.

"You know, I don't recall ever learning your name," the secretary said, his smile still concealed behind his hand.

"You didn't want to learn it," Jennifer replied, tilting her head to the side and peering up at him. Damn, he was _tall_. "It's Jennifer, anyways. Jennifer Chang. I mean, there's another Jennifer around here somewhere; that's Jennifer Breigher, or Merka. She's dressed as Alfred."

"I see," Workbitch replied, his face expressionless despite the mask. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Hugh enter the room in a Victorian-era Windsor uniform. "Oh dear. He shouldn't be wearing that," the secretary suddenly said with a frown, tilting his head to the side and squinting slightly.

"Who shouldn't be?" Jennifer wondered, turning around and craning to see whatever Workbitch was squinting at. "Mr. Allen? Or is it Mr. Hugh?"

"Hugh. You can tell by the uniform. Oh, dear God, if that Tenterden bloke sees…"

Jennifer and Workbitch continued to scrutinise the Course Coordinator as he walked over to the punch bowl, skirting by Alfred and Ivan's pie-eating contest. Tori Troutman, who was sporting a set of ram horns, a white beard, and a couple bolts of lighting, bumped into him as she escaped from a Fluffy Mint Bunny.

"That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!" she screeched, as the adorable mint-scented bunny bared its fangs. "Make no mistake!"

"What'd it do, Tori, nibble your bum?" Franklin Livingston, who was dressed as Sherlock Holmes, demanded from another corner, where the guys were congregated around their own stash of candy.

"That Fluffy Mint Bunny's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It's a killer!" Tori screeched, running right through the Ghostly Choir as they floated onto a stage erected in front of a dance floor.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the ghostly hotel proprietor said mournfully as the choir assembled from behind. "Happy Halloween. We'll be singing a couple of songs tonight –"

But at that moment, everything went to hell.

Mr. Hugh had picked up the ladle in the punch bowl, triggering something within the bowl's depths. At that same moment, Tori the Enchanter ran out the room and then came rushing back in, clutching her eyes.

"THE BLED PINJAS ARE HERE!" she screamed, as the punch bowl shattered, spilling lurid magenta punch and Glitter all over Mr. Hugh and the tablecloth.

The students turned around to see Pirate Arthur and Ninja Kiku (who were dressed in Bled-coloured outfits and wore bandit masks over their eyes) dive into the room, grab the shards of the punch bowl, and fly out, leaving a trail of Bled in their wake.

There was a long silence, before Workbitch gasped.

"Mr. Hugh was hit by the Vambiolaria bomb!"

* * *

**Notes:** I hope everyone had expected those two to be the Bled Pinjas, because pirate plus ninja makes pinja, and Arthur and Kiku had made Bled in the first place.


	11. Vambiolaria

**Notes:** Temporarily straying into more srsbsns territory. Your regularly-scheduled dosage of informative Hetalia crack will resume in the next chapter. =w=b

* * *

**Part XI**

The lights dimmed; the temperature dropped. In the darkness, Jennifer could only see the pearly shapes of the ghosts, looking slightly confused.

Workbitch had rushed over to Mr. Hugh's side, yelling something about fetching the school nurse. Jennifer stumbled after him, noticing that something was rising from the glitter specks – something growing into a purple mist and a pink light. The Vambiolaria virus was starting to attack.

She felt dizzy and slightly claustrophobic; darkness seemed to be closing in on her. Judging by the sounds around her, several other students felt the same.

_It seeks out the dominant character at the time and cannot be resisted_, a voice echoed in her mind.

"Wait, what? I'm… I'm not…" Jennifer tried to blink out the yellow and purple splotches in her vision. "Oh, I see," she whispered. "Everyone is a dominant character in their own mind."

And with that, she collapsed.

* * *

Hugh Edwin Fraser opened his azure eyes, looking up at the ceiling. "Where am I?" he asked in a mellow, melodious voice, wringing his perfectly carved alabaster hands. Never mind the fact that alabaster is very hard and shiny. "Is this my loyal servant who holds me thus in his arms, fearing for my plight? Worry not, dearest comrade, I have come to no harm."

He looked about him at the assembled students. There were several others lying on the floor – poor souls! He must do all he could to help them before they fell into the darkness, into a black abyss of oblivion! Hugh climbed to his feet, dusting off imaginary dust from his suddenly splendid prince-like clothing – the stains from the punch were completely gone. Never mind the fact that Hugh (and Allen, although that alter-ego had been temporarily incapacitated) detested his stuffy uniform and had only worn it because it was Halloween and he had no idea what to wear. He patted a rather winded-looking Workbitch on the shoulder and knelt down at one of the collapsed students' body.

"Oh, poor creature," he breathed, fingers delicately caressing the student's porcelain cheeks. "What could have possibly caused her such harm?"

"Er, the punch bowl, sir?" one of the other students admitted fearfully. "You see, sir, the Bled Pinjas…"

"Say no more, fair creature. I will hunt down those 'Bled Pinjas' and destroy them for causing such undue unrest upon this beauteous school," Hugh declared, dramatically striking a pose. Somewhere at the pie-eating table, Alfred F. Jones shed a tear of pride.

"That's my long-lost son!" the American declared emotionally, nearly choking on a piece of pumpkin pie as he said that.

The other students who had been closest to the Vambiolaria bomb when it exploded had been affected as well. The first to stir was the one closest to Hugh. "She stirs!" Hugh exclaimed, as the student opened a set of chocolate brown orbs and sat up, her black hair cascading down her back like a midnight waterfall. Never mind the fact that black-coloured waterfalls usually signified pollution. "Art thou unwell, fair one?" Hugh asked concernedly, suddenly switching into Shakespearean English without batting a ridiculously long eyelash.

"Nay, I am perfectly fine, good sir," the delicate maiden replied melodramatically, swishing about in her long flowing blue dress. "But what of our Quest? We must hunt down the Bled Pinjas!"

By now, the other affected students had clambered to their feet, causing all other males in the general vicinity to get nosebleeds, swoon, and generally make a fool of themselves. Alfred, Arthur, and Kiku had rushed forward, declaring their eternal love to Carolina Brown, Sakura Kirkland, and Lucy Robinson-Honda, who were all suddenly personifications of the Western media's obsession with anorexic, busty females. Workbitch had somehow been the only person near the punch bowl who had not been affected – but that was probably because few people had ever heard of him in canon. That still didn't stop him from falling prey to the extreme beauty of the Mary Sues.

Everyone else had a sudden urge to help the poor, beautiful creatures, who were so lovely that it hurt. Roderich Edelstein somehow managed to compose ten symphonies detailing the loveliness of the Mary Sues (and that one Gary Stu, Hugh). Francis and Arthur were reconciling over the maidens, promising to be best friends forever and ever. The same went for Ivan and Alfred; both had tears in their eyes.

"Fair damsel with your hair like raven wings!" Workbitch declared to the first student, who had twirled into his arms, her swirly blue skirt swishing provocatively about her. "Allow me to give my heart to thee," he continued, not knowing why he was being so obnoxiously eloquent. "Your beauty puts the stars to shame!"

"You flatter me, darling," she replied with a coy giggle, batting her eyelashes like a Moulin Rouge can-can dancer (the two students dressed like Moulin Rouge can-can dancers were sitting around gawking at the mayhem, not sure whether to be nauseated at the maudlin atmosphere or 'happy that their dearest friend had found true love') and looping her arms about his waist. "Kiss me now, before I remember my woefully tragic past and my cursed beauty!"

Next to them, Hugh was busy declaring his love to a girl in a red dress, not caring that she had a sword and enough energy to wield it expertly. As the entire party descended into a string of love declarations that could put any cheap romance novel to shame, the door to the hall swung open.

In stalked the school nurse with a retinue of Mochis. Hugh looked up to see Endland charging towards him.

The last thing he heard was the crimson-clad girl's beautiful, perfectly-pitched soprano scream as his world went white.

* * *

"Quickly! Disinfect the area! Where did the virus appear?" Nurse Florance Nightingail demanded, as the Vambiolaria victims were bounced out by the Mochis. "Was it that table, with the punch stains? Quickly, Hantamogo, place the Kuswort there!"

The Mochi version of Finland's puppy barked and plopped a couple of yellow, foul-smelling plants onto the table. The stray bits of Glitter flew towards the plant like metal objects to a magnet; when it was done, Hantamogo picked the pieces up with its mouth and bounced out after the others.

Florance then took out a spray bottle full of a bright blue substance. "This might sting a little," she warned, and sprayed the stuff all around the room. When it came in contact with someone, it started smoking slightly.

"Ow!" one of the male students screeched, clutching his forehead. "Sting a _little_? I might have an allergic reaction to this!"

"Well, it's either that or having an Aura of Smooth-induced hangover in the morning," the nurse retorted. All around the room, the staff members and students were starting to regain control of their bodies once more.

"What _was_ that?" Arthur Kirkland wondered aloud, clutching his head. "It… I can't remember what happened before the punch bowl exploded."

"Antidote to Aura of Smooth," Florance replied briskly, pocketing the spray bottle. "Effective for quickly reducing 'Suefluence and obliterating Glitter." She looked over at Workbitch, who was looking slightly shell-shocked. "Workbitch, come along. We've got to check on the Course Coordinator."

Workbitch shuffled after her out of the room, taking off his mask as he went. "I don't think you put enough Bleeprin into the mixture," he muttered ruefully. "I can still remember…"

"Well, I guess the amount of Bleeprin taken correlates to the amount of trauma sustained," Florance replied sharply. "And you seemed to have had it worse than Arthur…"

Workbitch nodded, as they climbed a flight of stairs leading up to the Hospital Wing. Several other nurses and Mochis were bustling about; the student victims were all blissfully unconscious. In a curtained-off section, Mr. Hugh lay with Mochi bits stuck in his hair.

"Takara? Miss Takara, are you all right?" Florance asked, and a young nurse with dark hair and bright green eyes looked up from where she was trying to peel Mochi bits off the Course Coordinator's forehead.

"Quite fine, ma'am," Takara mumbled, blushing scarlet and bowing slightly.

"Takara, you should be helping Clara Bartan with the Vambiolaria remedy," Florance reprimanded. The other nurse mumbled a string of apologies and shuffled off. As Takara left, Florance turned to Workbitch. "She's fond of him," she said, smiling slightly.

"Fond of Mr. Hugh?" Workbitch echoed. "Yes, I can see…" He sighed. "Right, so how much Kuswort do you have on hand?"

"Barely enough for the remedy," Florance replied. "So I think you need to write a letter to HFA, to ask for another shipment or two. Preferably two; who knows what else will happen between now and the end of term."

"Sounds like a wise idea, ma'am," Workbitch said, inclining his head towards her. "Is that all?"

"Just write the letter quickly." Florance smiled at him and gently pushed him in the direction of the exit. "Out, out, and tell the staff that we're working on the remedy."

Workbitch nodded and left.

* * *

"What do you think is going to happen to those students?" Megan wondered to Luna as Workbitch re-entered the room and whispered something into Arthur's ear. "Jennifer and Kriss got affected."

_Yes, and so did Carolina, Sakura, and Lucy_, Luna replied.

Lydia came shuffling over. "Wasn't that totally freaky?" she demanded. "Who do you think put the bomb in the punch bowl?"

"The Bled Pinjas," Kiri Olaveja replied immediately. "I mean, they took the bowl away, didn't they?"

"I don't know; I don't think they'd be that evil," Roksana Abdullah said petulantly. "I mean, Glitter bombs just don't really seem to be… their style."

"I know what you mean," Megan agreed. "What do you think, Lucia?"

The mermaid student, who was dressed as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, shrugged. "I dunno. Hey, are you an alien?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Megan wondered.

Lucia giggled. "My place or yours?"

Merka came bouncing over. "Hey, hey, I heard that the nurses are working on a cure for… whatever happened," she exclaimed. "Arthur was just telling Francis, Kiku, and Alfred about it."

Luna sighed. _I hope they get that cured soon. I mean, what if it was contagious_?

"Ew!" Megan wrinkled her nose. "That'd be… ew!"

The Halloween party continued, but at a more subdued level. The Vambiolaria bomb still remained on everyone's minds, and for weeks on end, it was pretty much the only thing being discussed throughout the school.

* * *

November started out in a blaze of brightly coloured leaves falling to the ground and entangling in people's hair. Sabrina seemed to be particularly affected, due to the sugary content of her hair.

"Get a load of this!" Jennifer, now out of the Hospital Wing completely cured but smelling slightly of crow bladders and frog intestines, exclaimed one morning, throwing a copy of the _Bled Chronicles_ at Megan's head. "Look at the headlines!"

Megan grabbed the newspaper and opened it, looking at the picture. "It's Mr. Allen, looking worried," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but the headlines!" Jennifer insisted.

"PPC Dispatches Reveal Story behind Halloween Bombing," Megan read aloud, as the door to their room banged open and Kriss and Merka rushed in, with their copy of the paper as well.

"Did you read this?" Kriss demanded, waving the paper at them.

"Yes, I read it," Jennifer repeated, wiping her face for the umpteenth time that morning (the crow bladder smell wasn't going away). "Who didn't?"

Cristiana Moretti, the Lovino fangirl from across the hall, opened her door and stumbled into their room. "What's this about the paper?" she wondered aloud. "Is Lovino in it?"

"No, but you ought to hear this anyways," Jennifer replied. "Take it away, Megan."

Megan began to read:

**PPC Dispatches Reveal Story Behind Halloween Bombing**

_Dispatches from the Protectors of the Plot Continuum Headquarters reveal that the Vambiolaria bomb released on Halloween was only the first wave of attack against this school. According to those documents, the oldest dating back to early September, the League of Mary Sue Factories has been mass producing Hetalia-verse Mary Sues._

"_Special State-tans, imaginary Nation-tans, and horrifyingly perfect girls who target Nations – all of these are being produced en masse by the League of Mary Sue Factories," one document reads. "Sparkly Pink Rainbow Unicorns Ltd. boasts that they have the largest supply of rainbow-eyed Nation-tans, ready for vicarious living at the push of a button. On the other hand, GlitterDreams Manufacturers insist that they sport the Multiverse's largest supply of State-tans, particularly those that make up the United States of America."_

_So apparently there has been an arms race occurring somewhere beyond the IAHF campus. Each factory views the other as competition; they are producing stronger, faster, and prettier 'Sues in a race to become the best factory. _

"_Mr. Allen said it himself," says PPC Agent Eledhwen Elerossiel. "These sorts of factories work like Nations. Build up one country's military strength, and the others will follow suit. This can only lead to war."_

_The factories certainly look like they're preparing for war. Another document reveals lists of weaponry that the factories in question are trying to manufacture. The Vambiolaria bomb is at the top of each list._

"_Of course, they're looking for something more destructive than what happened on Halloween," says Bled Pirate Arthur Kirkland. "Ninja Kiku and I were investigating the shards of the punch bowl. I think the bowl contained a lot of the bomb's destructive force. If the bomb had been on the table, there would probably have been more victims."_

_So far, the most recent documents show that all the Mary Sues have been able to achieve is the Glitter-packed bomb that exploded on Halloween. Therefore, the more concerning matter is Mr. Allen/Hugh's choice to withhold such vital information from the rest of us._

"_I was surprised when Mr. Allen told me not to tell anyone about this," confesses Secretary Workbitch Bartholomew. "I mean, everyone has a right to know the truth. If he's going to cover it up, I'm sure he has his reasons. But I'm also sure the Halloween incident could have been avoided if the general population had been better informed."_

"That's shocking," Cristiana said after a moment. "Mr. Allen knew all along?"

"Yeah, apparently." Jennifer was wiping her hair again. "Ugh, I wish he had told us. Then I wouldn't be smelling crow bladders everywhere I go."

"Good luck with that," Merka snickered. Kriss lightly slapped her arm.

"Hey, I got it, too!"

"Something that my nose reminds me of every night," Merka sniffed. "We've got Language classes today. Let's go to breakfast, yeah?"

The five students left the room, Jennifer still towelling her hair.

The newspaper, with Mr. Allen's forlorn face on the front cover, lay innocently on Megan's bed.

* * *

**Several Canon Protection Initiative terms you may not recognise (I didn't make these up; those brilliant Boarders did)**

Vambiolaria: The Mary Sue disease. Traditionally only happens to the main character, but either way, it's a way of suddenly Sueifying someone.

Kuswort: Part of the cure for Vambiolaria; it's a foul-smelling yellow plant found in the Forbidden Forest at HFA.

Glitter: An essential component of Mary Sue (and sparklepire) blood.

Aura of Smooth: (aka 'Suefluence) the strange 'force field' like thing that Mary Sues exude to bend others to their will.

Bleeprin: Another wonder drug created at HFA that combines bleach and aspirin to make people forget the gruesome parts of Badfic.

Mary Sue Factories: Exactly what it says on the tin.

Multiverse: The combination of all existing fandoms.


	12. If Lake Eric Freezes Over

**Part XII**

"Your essays were, to be frank, horrible," Ludwig Beilschmidt snapped. Another Tuesday, another Canon 101 class. "No one even got the gist of the chapter. You were supposed to detail France's _entire_ military history, up to the Napoleonic Wars. Not just the Hundred Year's War."

The students looked at each other, daring the others to challenge the irate German about the incomprehensibility of their textbooks.

"Today, we will be covering the War of the Austrian Succession," Kiku cut in, before Ludwig started ranting about the poor quality of the essays like he did last week. "Take out paper and pen, please. Feli-kun, please put down the kitten and help us teach the class. Thank you."

Feliciano Vargas regretfully set Italy Kitty down and walked over to the board. "Ve," he mumbled. "The War of the Austrian Succession happened in 1740 and went for eight years. It was waged over Maria Theresa's right to the Austrian throne."

"This is because of Salic law," Kiku continued calmly, "which dictates that no woman could inherit a throne or a fief." Several girls in the room hissed, but Kiku paid them no attention. "Salic law was widely observed in Europe, where daughters only inherited the throne if all other males in the line of succession have died. However, in this context, it was just an excuse that France and Prussia used to challenge Habsburg authority."

"It begins with the Pragmatic Sanction of 1713," Ludwig cut in, still sporting a nervous tic above his right eye. "The original plan that Charles VI set for his daughter was that she would become Queen of Hungary, Croatia, and Bohemia, Archduchess of Austria, and Duchess of Parma – but not Holy Roman Emperor. He also persuaded the other German states to the Pragmatic Sanction of 1713, which said that the Austrian throne and Habsburg lands could be inherited by a daughter."

"But," Feliciano added, "When Maria Theresa came to the throne, Prussia violated the Pragmatic Sanction and invaded Silesia. Big Brother France, Bavaria, and Saxony followed suit." He paused and pouted. "Why'd they do that, Luddy?"

"Because they though Maria Theresa was weak," Ludwig replied tersely. "Prussia invaded Silesia because they believed that their ruling family, the Hohenzollerns of Brandenburg, should inherit the Duchy of Brieg. At this time, Frederick the Great –"

"Old Fritz!" came a fourth voice, and Gilbert Beilschmidt dropped down from the ceiling. "Wassup, West? Talking about the War of the Austrian Succession? Oh man, I was so awesome then! Lemme tell you kiddies all about it!" He began to strut in front of the desk, nearly causing Laurel Martin to pass out. "So Old Fritz thought that he could unify a bunch of scattered states into one, yeah? He had a treaty with the Piasts of Brieg, so he used that to invade Silesia."

"But that was a total reversal of your position in the War of the Polish Succession," Feliciano pointed out.

"Who cares?" Gilbert snickered. "I was totally waiting for this moment, man! Old Fritz's father, Friedrich Wilhelm I, had been training the troops and I was itching to use them in a battle! Mein Gott, that piano-playing prick didn't stand a chance!"

"Yes, we are aware that the Prussian military at this time was very well-trained and well-equipped," Kiku said quietly. "Shall we move on?"

"Ja, ja, let's," Gilbert replied with a shrug. "So, I went in and seized Roddy's vital region –" At that, the entire room broke into cheers and giggles. "I know, it was cool, wasn't it? Francis and Antonio came along for the ride, since their bosses were related. We were being totally awesome and kicking Roderich's ass, but then Elisa came in."

"Ja, Maria Theresa convinced the Hungarians to send in a _levée en masse_ – an insurrection," Ludwig added. "Apparently she went to the Hungarian nobles with her son in her arms, pleading them for help. It worked."

"And who were the allies?" Feliciano asked. "Well, Gilbert just said that Prussia was allied with Spain and France. Austria had Hungary and Britain on his side."

"But Artie and Francis were just in the war to beat each other up," Gilbert interrupted. "They were fighting in the colonies, too. Alfred and Matthew call this war King George's War, after all."

"Why'd it go for, like, eight years?" Shelby wondered aloud. "I mean… that's a long time… just to fight over Silesia and Maria Theresa's right to the throne?"

"This is because it was one the first World Wars," Kiku explained. "Almost everyone got involved eventually. Prussia was determined to hold onto Silesia, and Austria was just as determined to take it back. At the same time, Spain was trying to conquer Italy."

"I know this part!" Feliciano squealed. "Ve, ve, Kiku, let me talk!" Kiku nodded silently, so the excited Italian bounced onto the table (much to Ludwig's consternation). "Okay! Big Brother Spain wanted to get me, so he got my brother and Big Brother France to help him! But Austria comes in, because he had a temporary truce with Prussia in 1746, and made them retreat."

"Feli, were you supporting Antonio or Roderich? We never really understood what happened," Tori Troutman piped up.

"Well, Genoa supported French and Spanish troops, but…" Feliciano trailed off. "I don't know, it was hard being divided into smaller countries back then, okay?"

"I see." Tori frowned and looked at her notes.

"Anyways, back to me!" Gilbert snapped. "I kicked Roderich's ass back to last week in this war, man! This was because of my awesome army and because Roderich almost never wins a war. So he ceded Silesia to me in the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, in return for me recognising Maria Theresa."

"Another important result of this war is the beginning of the Prussian-Austrian rivalry," Ludwig interrupted. "Also known as the _Deutscher Dualismus_, it was a race to be known as the political force of the German-speaking peoples."

"Prussia totally won," Gilbert cut in, sticking out his tongue.

"Nein, bruder," Ludwig sighed. "_I_ won."

The students snickered.

* * *

"Wait, so homework's just write an essay explaining the causes and effects of the War of the Austrian Succession, right?" Huskie asked Scylla after class, as everyone straggled to lunch (chow mein for lunch; wontons for dinner. Of course, the food fight was RoChu versus Pandaburger). "We don't have to read more stuff, right?"

"I think so," Scylla replied with a shrug. Next to her, Hotaru was asking Ryosuke Nakayama to provide her with a summary of the lecture, since she had slept through it.

"I'm not telling you," the Japanese-American student snapped. "Go ask someone else."

"But _please_? _Pretty please_?" Hotaru pleaded. "Come on, I'll trade you a USUK doujin!"

Ryosuke raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Oh, it was just Prussia kicking Austria's ass," Laurel Martin said dismissively, waving a chopstick about wildly. She claimed to be a wizard, but so far, all she had been able to do was turn sierra akoti's hair green. The other girl didn't appreciate it at all.

"Austria doesn't seem to win a lot of wars," William Ofritas, a quiet Russian student, pointed out.

Azure hissed. "Yeah, well, Russia can't organise his way out of a paper bag, so _there_!" William bristled.

Jennifer walked past them, sniggering to herself when the cat-girl and the Russian broke out into an argument.

"Something amusing?" someone asked coolly in a British accent. Jennifer's head popped up; she saw other students look around, straining to hear the Sexy British Accent again.

"You just pop out of the shadows, don't you?" Jennifer demanded, hiding her face behind her Canon 101 textbook. Damn it, she hadn't been expecting to see _him_, of all people. Especially since whenever she did, she got a swooping sensation in her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was a side effect of Vambiolaria or not, but all the heartbeat-skipping and stomach-swooping that she was feeling around Mr. Allen's secretary was starting to scare her.

"Just some tricks I picked up from Ninja Kiku and my grandfather Howard," Workbitch replied amusedly, as Jennifer peered at him over her textbook. "How have you been, Jennifer? We haven't talked in a while."

Oh great, he had to bring _that _up, didn't he? Jennifer felt as if someone had set her cheeks on fire. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. And it's really been a while since Halloween, yeah?"

"Indeed." Workbitch arched an eyebrow. "Shall I carry that textbook for you? You look like you're about to faint."

"Aw, that's nice of you," Jennifer gladly relinquished her textbook. "What are you up to?"

"Can't talk about _that _exactly, but I can tell you that I just approved some paperwork for Alfred and Matthew to start ice hockey teams," Workbitch replied amiably, somehow carrying the textbook with ease. He was probably well-toned underneath that stuffy black butler suit – and Jennifer quickly derailed that train of thought before it drove itself into the gutter. "Once Lake Eric freezes, the hockey season starts."

Jennifer looked out a window as they passed. The leaves were still falling, and she could see Alfred and Ivan having a contest to see who can create the biggest leaf pile. Their efforts were largely wasted, as the Mochis kept interrupting the contest to use the leaf piles as trampolines.

"I don't think it's going to happen soon," she pointed out.

"But the temperature's dropping rapidly," Workbitch replied. "It's been fluctuating between the tens and twenties already; any day now it'll drop below ten and then zero." He was referring to the Celsius scale, of course, but it took Jennifer a few moments to catch up with him.

"R-right." Jennifer looked outside again, to see Mirabelle and Loki Shadow Reave (a name that the Nordics didn't really appreciate) attempt to tackle Alfred and Ivan, respectively. The Mochis intercepted them mid-jump. Jennifer winced as the students vanished under the Mochi pile-up.

"You lot just never give up, do you?" Workbitch asked from next to her; Jennifer looked up at him, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"I guess," she said softly, looking away quickly and attempting to hide her crimson face behind her hair. Damn her insecurity around hot British men! "Well, I'd sign up for the hockey team if I could skate." They started walking again.

"You can't skate?" Workbitch echoed.

"I grew up in sunny Southern California! What do you expect?" Jennifer snapped, vaguely wondering if she heard screams coming from the Staff Section. Oh, that must be Karen, attempting to give cookies to Ludwig for about the sixty-ninth time. Oh, sixty-nine… _stop_!_ Don't think about that_!

"Well, they do have an ice hockey team down there," Workbitch pointed out.

"I haven't had much exposure to that ice rink, anyways," Jennifer countered. "Never had time to get involved in winter sports. Anyways, I tried skiing last Christmas. Ouch."

"Arthur, Feliciano, and Kiku are pretty good at skiing," Workbitch noted thoughtfully. They were nearing the dining hall; Jennifer was suddenly aware of how many people were staring at her for talking to Workbitch. "Francis is good at snowboarding… but of course, no one can beat the Nordics at their winter sports." He smiled a little. "And of course, no one tops Ivan at figure-skating."

"I should hope so," Jennifer replied, taking her textbook back from the secretary. "I'll see you around?"

"Certainly. You know what, if Lake Eric does freeze over, I can teach you to ice skate."

"I'll kill you with my clumsiness," Jennifer warned, blushing furiously.

Workbitch shrugged. "I can always resurrect myself," he replied drily. "Will you take the offer?"

"Sure." Jennifer bit her lip, not sure why she was staring at him. Damn him and his extremely attractive sideburns. Damn him to hell.

"I'll see you, then." He turned and walked away, leaving a slightly dazed student in his wake.

* * *

"You! We saw you walking around with that Workbitch guy!" Emmanuella Escantara exclaimed as Jennifer took a seat at the North American table with Merka. "What were the two of you talking about?"

"Winter sports," Jennifer replied. "Matthew and Alfred are starting hockey teams."

"Eeeeee!" squealed Sara Parker. "Team Canada!"

"No, Team America!" snapped Merka, who always lent her support to both parties in the USUK pairing unless they were pitted against each other – then she'd be Team England all the way to hell. "America beat the Soviets in 1980!"

"Yeah, but Canada beat America at Vancouver last year!" Sara retorted. The two started arguing, and Emmanuella rolled her eyes and pointedly stared at Jennifer.

"Well? I'm sure there's more to that story!" the one-horned girl demanded with her hands on her hips. "Come on!"

"Er, the temperature's dropping?" Jennifer mumbled, blushing again and looking down at her chow mein. "So whenever Lake Eric freezes over, I'm going to go skating with him – wait! Pretend you didn't hear that!"

Too late.

"Was ist dis?" Kitty Smith demanded gleefully in a mock German accent, popping up next to Emmanuella and grinning mischievously. "Did I hear dis correctly?"

"I think you heard what I heard," Emmanuella replied with an equally mischievous grin. Jennifer tried to hide under the table. "Jennifer Chang's got a date!"

That got the entire cafeteria listening in. Jennifer curled up into a ball under the table, vowing to herself never to talk about her personal life to anyone _ever_ again.

"Jennifoos has a date?" Megan demanded from somewhere else in the dining hall, where she was sitting with Lucia Verdas. The two had been going out since Halloween; Jennifer sometimes had the dorm room to herself when Megan was out camping by the lake. Those nights usually resulted in mornings where an irate Pirate England drags a half-frostbitten Megan into their room, ranting at the alien girl about skinny-dipping in Lake Eric in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, with _Workbitch Bartholomew_," Kitty taunted, kneeling down and grinning at the mortified Jennifer.

"It's just skating lessons," the bespectacled Asian girl mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.

"Pff, I bet that's a euphemism for something," Megan called from her table.

"You gutter-minded freak!" Jennifer snapped from behind her hands.

"You love it, darling."

* * *

Mr. Allen wasn't talking to Shinbun-kun. In fact, he was cold-shouldering the reporter so coldly that snowflakes fell in the Staff Section whenever they were in the same room.

That, or Tino was practising his Santa routine again.

"Allen, you've got to stop this," Matthew Williams said concernedly, brushing snow off his shoulder for the umpteenth time. Mr. Allen pouted and folded his arms, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Shinbun-kun, who was looking bewildered and half-heartedly conversing in German with Roderich Edelstein. "You're going to cause a blizzard soon with that attitude."

"He looked at the documents!" the Course Coordinator snapped grouchily. "Those were confidential documents!"

"The public has a right to know," Australia piped up. He was babysitting Kumajiro with his koala, and he was shivering lightly in the frosty room. "By withholding secrets from the people, a government can get away with anything. Transparency like this ensures that the people aren't being blindsided."

"Don't pull the Assange line on me," Mr. Allen snarled. "Alfred was complaining to me yesterday that someone stole his diary. I have every reason to suspect you."

Australia chuckled. "Oh really? And what would I do with the Yank's diary?" he scoffed.

"Publish it on the Internet?" Alfred F. Jones asked innocently, walking into the room wearing a giant thermal coat. "I dunno, I heard someone's been spilling secrets about my government on the Internet."

Mr. Allen rolled his eyes. "I read the one sent by the Ambassador to London," he said, in a desperate stab to change the topic. "Is Arthur really that hung over about…?"

"Naw, he'll get over it. I bet he was drunk when he confessed that to the diplomat," Alfred snickered. "Anyways, I just beat Tony at Black Ops again! I'm so excited!"

"You still have to play me," Ivan pointed out sweetly. Alfred snorted.

"Bring it on, Commie bastard. Bring it on! I'll kick your ass back to the Muscovy era!"

"I'm shocked that you even know about the Muscovy era," Ivan replied with a grin. "We all thought you were lacking in the intelligence department –"

"ARE YOU CALLING ME DUMB, YOU COMMIE BASTARD?"

"Woah, woah! A bit high-strung, are we?" Australia demanded, bouncing up and pulling Alfred away from Ivan. Yao Wang did the same with the Russian – or at least, he attempted. Ivan was damn heavy.

"He called me dumb!"

"Everyone does so behind your back." Pause. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

Mr. Allen shook his head as World War Two Thousand and One broke out. He looked over at Shinbun-kun, who was writing out the proceedings with a gleeful expression on his face. Shinbun looked at him, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

Mr. Allen sighed and left the room.

**

* * *

Notes:** Signups for the hockey teams are now open to IAHF students! Comment with whose team you'd like to be on – Alfred's, Matthew's, or Ivan's (because Ivan will probably join the puck-whacking fun a bit later). You don't _have_ to sign up; I'm also thinking of doing other winter sports.


	13. Lake Eric Did Freeze Over

**Part XIII**

On Wednesday morning, Jennifer woke to see that winter had decided to move in early. Snow was falling from the sky, and Lucia Verdas was snoozing in a tub at the foot of Megan's bed. Outside, Lake Eric had a very thin layer of ice at the surface; Pirates Arthur, Francis, and Antonio were tying their ships to the dock. No more naval battles until the snow melted.

"It was fall yesterday!" Jennifer declared to herself, pressing her face against the window to get a good look at the dancing snowflakes. The IAHF campus was turning into a winter wonderland, and it hadn't even been Thanksgiving yet.

"Christmas came early?" Megan asked; Jennifer shrugged and turned to see the other girl looking at her.

"Depends on whether you view snow as a blessing or a curse," she replied, and Megan bounced over to her bed to look out the window.

"Snow!" she squealed, waking the mermaid with that. "Oh my God, it's snowing!"

"Snow?" Lucia demanded, splashing water all over the floor in her mad scramble to get out of the tub. Jennifer averted her eyes – what was the use of pyjamas if one slept in water, after all? – as the giggly mermaid joined Megan at the window. "Wow, Meg, we've gotta start a snowball fight! Let's go, yeah?"

"Of course!" Megan giggled, tickling her half-fish girlfriend. Jennifer groaned; Lucia had dripped water all over her bed.

"Take the tickle war to Megan's bed," she snapped. "I'm getting dressed." Grabbing her clothes, the Asian Anglophile stalked out of the room and down the hall into the bathroom.

The tiles were icy cold. "Fuck!" Jennifer swore as her bare feet met the bathroom floor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She looked around her – everything seemed to be working in there. Closeting herself in a stall, she began to change.

* * *

Charlie Tenterden, finally released from the Golag, awoke from a Mr. Hugh-infested dream to see snowflakes falling outside his window.

"But November's not even over!" his roommate Andrew Ho complained; the other had been up staring at the early-winter scenery outside. "Fuck that, it's barely even _begun_!"

Charlie grinned. "I heard that Mr. Hugh was really mad at Shinbun-kun for publishing some documents without his permission, so maybe he did this to get back at him?" he wondered aloud. Charlie tried to avoid talking about the Course Coordinator's grumpier alter-ego if he could avoid it – Mr. Hugh was so much more attractive, anyways! (Anyone else would wonder what made Mr. Hugh more attractive than Mr. Allen, since they looked the same and acted just about the same. But that was the thing with fangirls – or fanboy, in this regard. They always noticed slight differences between their Lust Object and people who _look like_ their Lust Object.)

"That's stupid; Mr. _Allen_ doesn't control the weather," Andrew snapped, putting on a T-shirt. He had put down 'really hot guy' on his enrolment form – something that ended up with him often passing out from heatstroke for no reason at all.

"Maybe _someone_ does and Mr. _Hugh_ knows them," Charlie replied, pouting.

"Whatever," Andrew said in that voice that clearly suggested that he wasn't going to talk to some poncy masochistic guy with a crush on the Course Coordinator. Charlie beamed, the tone going clear over his head as he dressed and skipped out the room. Time to play in the snow and attract Hughie again!

"Shut up!" the muffled voice of Mike Hawk resounded from the room across the hall; moments later, a pillow thumped against the door. Apparently, Charlie had been saying his thoughts aloud again. "You sound gayer than my roommate, and that's saying something!"

"Hey!" Taylor Drews-Garcia didn't take that well. "What part of _meterosexual_ don't you understand?"

Meterosexual? Wasn't Mr. Hugh meterosexual, too? Oh, well, he'd drag his beloved Hughie out the closet sooner or later, right? Still grinning, Charlie pulled on his boots and headed out of the boys' dorm.

Outside, an alien girl and a mermaid girl were having a snowball fight. Even though only about an inch of snow fell, they made do with what they had. Other students eventually left the girls' dormitories and joined them, even though there was hardly enough snow to go around for a snowball fight.

"How long do you think it'll take for the lake to freeze through for skating?" someone wondered to Charlie's left. Wasn't her name Karin Guarez or something? "I wanna sign up for the hockey teams that Jennifer was talking about yesterday!"

"Oh, yeah, I think the sign-ups are already posted outside the cafeteria," another girl – Anita Khok, was it? – replied. "Kiri Olaveja was up this morning, checking the menu."

"What's on the menu, then?" Lydia asked. "Or at least, who's cooking…?"

"Grovbrød and geitost for breakfast, smørbrød for lunch, and reinsdyrsteik for dinner," Kiri replied immediately. "In short, Norway's cooking."

"That means the food fight's going to be DenNor versus NorIce, right?" Anita sighed.

Charlie looked back to see the other guys leaving their dormitory, so he went ahead and walked to the cafeteria.

Never too late for breakfast, after all.

* * *

"We're talking about the Renaissance today," Ivan said cheerily in History, looking perfectly at home in the freezing classroom. Jennifer thought that she was going to pass out from the cold and wrapped herself tighter in her jacket.

"That s-s-sounds like fun, s-s-sir," Loki Reave said through a mouthful of chattering teeth. Being a Shadow demon meant that she was more used to the fiery depths of hell than the freezing mini-hell known as the History classroom. "Is th-th-there a thermos-s-stat in here? I'm fr-r-reezing." There were nods of agreement and grumbles of concurrence at that.

Ivan sent them a disturbing smile. "Don't be a bunch of sissies," he remarked. "It's just a little chilly in here. If you complain, then you can experience the cold in Siberia, da?"

That made the room go deathly quiet. Jennifer curled into the foetal position, trying to salvage the vestiges of her body warmth. Damn it, how _did_ Ivan live through Russian winter in the first place?

"Anyways, today we're starting our section on the Renaissance, the Reformation, and the Age of Exploration. All of these bring Europe out of the Middle Ages. Let's begin with the Renaissance, da? Can anyone tell me what the Renaissance is?"

"Rebirth!" Tori Troutman and Franklin Livingston called out immediately. They then glared at each other.

"Da, da, it mean 'rebirth' in French. What is it, though?"

"A rediscovery of Classical culture," Karin Guarez replied immediately, shivering slightly.

"And the Classical culture focuses on?"

"Reason and the search for the individual," Franklin replied immediately.

"Good, good. The Renaissance is a cultural movement starting in the fourteenth century and lasting until the seventeenth century. During the Renaissance, people began emphasising more on the value of the individual rather than on religion. This stemmed partly from the Black Death –" at that, several students shuddered in remembrance, "– because during that period people began losing faith in religion. They began to question the importance of the afterlife. The Renaissance is a celebration of life itself – a celebration of the human being." He grinned disturbingly, and Jennifer was pretty sure that he wanted to take that human being and wring its neck. She shuddered.

Ivan looked down at his notes and frowned. "There's nothing on Russia in here… oh well! The most important idea during the Renaissance is humanism, which was concerned with human interests and values. The so-called father of Humanism, Francesco Petrarch, collected literature, wrote sonnets, and studied history, languages, and ethics. All of these subjects are in the modern study of humanities."

A collective "ohhhhhh" went through the room.

"So that's what that means!" Merka gasped. "I was wondering why people were asking if I was going to major in humanities."

"You thought it was synonymous with 'humanitarian', didn't you?" Carolina Brown asked sympathetically. Ivan shot her another 'shut up before I introduce you to my water pipe' glare; she withered faster than a blossom trying to bloom in snow.

"Moving on," the Russian said cheerily. "In writing, the essay was invented around this time. And speaking of essays, your assignment this week is to write me an essay on how the Renaissance led to the Reformation and the Age of Exploration. Failure to do so means you get to help my sister Nataliya with her target practice, da?" More shudders from the students. "Excellent! Let's talk more about writing at this time. Previously in the Middle Ages, people wrote mostly religious texts, and since most educated people were either rich or clergy members – or both, if you were high up in the Church hierarchy – they wrote mostly in Latin. Now in the Renaissance, people were starting to write things in the vernacular, or the common language used in a given region."

"How did they figure out the grammar, then, if they never wrote in the vernacular before?" Shannon Price demanded.

"Oh, some things were recorded in the common language back then – but since Latin was the language of the Roman Catholic Church, it became the preferred language for educated elites in those days. This holds true for Western Europe; in Eastern Europe, Greek and Old Church Slavonic were the dominant written languages. However, now with the Renaissance, people began to use the vernacular in their writings more often. And to properly answer your question, grammar isn't standardised until much later on."

Shannon nodded, looking slightly dazed by the information dump. Ivan flashed yet another disturbing grin.

"So! The Renaissance started in the city-states of Italy – namely Milan, Florence, Naples, Venice, and the Papal States. This will be on your exam; remember it now." The students quickly scrambled to get their supplies, wincing as they exposed their hands to the cold room. "Venice was a republic, under a doge. Florence, Milan, and Naples were oligarchies. Of course, the Pope ruled over the Papal States."

He paused again. "Each city-state sponsored artists and writers, and scholars from elsewhere went to Italy to learn. Those scholars would bring the ideas and ideals back to their home country, so eventually the Renaissance moved north to England, France, and the Holy Roman Empire."

A couple of Holy Roman Empire fans squealed. "Oh, HRE," one of them sighed dreamily. "Why are you so cute?"

Ivan glared at them before speaking again. "The Northern Renaissance, however, clung a bit more to religion. Northern humanism, according to its founder Desiderius Erasmus, combined the classics with Christian principles. Erasmus believed that people can incite reform with reason; he is called the Scholar of Europe for his ideas."

He was about to go on about the differences between the Italian and Northern Renaissances, when the door to the room slammed open and Alfred stalked in.

"You! Why do I have to take therapy with you?"

"In Soviet Russia," Ivan replied with a completely straight face, "I question why I have to take therapy with _you_!" Several students snickered at that, and Alfred bristled slightly.

"Oh my God, Ivan, will you crank up the thermostat in here?" the American snapped brashly, abruptly changing tack. "I think Florida's going to freeze off at this rate!"

"That would be beneficial, no?" the Russian replied innocently. "Arthur wouldn't complain to me about your small dick all the time." At that, the USUK fangirls broke into hysterical laughter.

"Florida's like twice the size of his sorry little island!" Alfred complained. "And I've never even shown him Florida, so how would _he_ know?"

Ivan grinned. "Just admit it. You have a great liking for monster trucks, no? Are those giant tires _compensating for something_?"

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S SMALL-DICKED, YOU BASTARD!" Alfred bellowed, dragging Ivan out of the room by his scarf. "AND SOMEONE TURN ON THE HEAT BEFORE YOU ALL CATCH HYPOTHERMIA!"

* * *

A betting pool immediately started after class on what happened to Ivan and Alfred. Some people believed that they went to compare the length of their, ahem, 'longest peninsulas'. Others believed that they tried to re-enact the Cuban Missile Crisis. Still others believed that they went to settle the matter with Arthur. And of course, the RusAmerica shippers believed that they, ahem, 'heated up' the Cold War.

Jennifer stared out at Lake Eric as she ate her lunch. The Mochis were already testing the ice for hardness; a heavily bundled Eduard Von Bock was helping them by recording the thickness in any given area. The snow was already falling harder; the USUK and FrUK shippers were making plans to wage a snowball fight after lunch.

Already, there were people starting to sign up for the hockey teams. Luna, Karin, Lucia, and Eva were on Alfred's team; Mike Hawk, Alexandra Reynolds, and Kiri Olaveja were on Ivan's. Matthew only had Sara and Anita on his team so far; Jennifer suspected that he would be paying the students a visit to promote Invisible Nations again pretty soon.

"Did you hear?" Merka exclaimed, bouncing up next to her with her own lunch in her hands. "Artie, Feliciano, and Kiku are doing skiing lessons! Yong-Soo and Yao are doing figure skating lessons, and Francis is teaching snowboarding!" She clapped her hands together. "Oh gods, I don't know what to sign up for!"

"You forgot," Karen DuLay cut in as she walked past, "that Luddy's doing a Cold Weather Wilderness Survival Seminar! It'll happen in December. I can't wait!" She bounced away, muttering something about baking more cookies.

"Seventieth attempt?" Jennifer wondered. Merka laughed.

"Yeah, I think so. Looking forward to your date?"

Jennifer blushed crimson. "It's _not_ a date! It's just skating lessons!" she snapped. "You looking forward to the Het and Yuri part of Finland and Sweden's Sex Ed seminar on Sunday?"

"Well, duh!" Merka beamed. "It's going to be totally awesome! Come on, let's go take a seat."

The two fangirls turned away from the window. If they had been standing there a moment longer, they would have caught sight of a pink-haired, rainbow-eyed, cat-eared figure fleeing the grounds.

* * *

**Notes:** THE PLOT THICKENS. Hm, it could do with a little dieting...

So there you have it. Everyone gets to take Ludwig's Survival Skills Seminar (all thanks to **Karen Elaine DuLay** for thinking that up) sometime in December. These are the winter sports offered at IAHF in the afternoons after classes. Sign away, me hearties.


	14. Hockey, Eh

**Part XIV**

"Introduction to Bromance!" Merka cheered on Thursday as the students gathered outside the Platonic Love classroom. "I can't wait to hear Alfred and Artie talk about theirs!"

"Alfred and Arthur have such a rad bromance," sighed Hotaru happily.

"Are you sure it's not a Bad Romance?" Kriss interjected from the non-USUK section of the hallway. "Rah, rah, ah-ah-ah! Roma, roma-ma-ma! Ga, ga, ooh-la-la," she began to sing.

"OH MY GOD, NOT LADY GAGA!" Shelby snapped. "My pea pod's been doing nothing but play 'Bad Romance' for the past week!"

"But Lady Gaga dated Matthew Williams, didn't she?" Sally wondered aloud. "They were so cute together..."

There came a commotion from the end of the hall. Jennifer looked up from her Platonic Love textbook (_A Guide to Platonic Relationships_ by Lez B. Friends) and asked Lydia what was going on.

"Mr. Allen - no wait, Mr. Hugh - is reprimanding Alfred for something," the part-carrot student replied. "I don't know what it is, but I think..." she frowned. "Bled grenades, nukes, trenches, and poison gas. Were they trying to recreate the Battle of the Somme or something?"

"Who knows," Jennifer replied, wondering what the Battle of the Somme was. Alfred's furious face came into view a few moments later, and she stood up and closed her textbook.

Mr. Hugh walked past Alfred, shaking his head. Ingland and Igrysu followed him, shooting nasty Mochi glares at American and LAmerique. A very confused Arthur Kirkland brought up the rear, looking slightly forlorn.

"What's up between them?" Merka wondered aloud. "Lovers' quarrel?"

"Miss Breigher, see me after class," Alfred snapped immediately. Merka raised her eyebrows and mouthed 'someone has a nuke up his ass today' at Jennifer, who snickered.

"If you really want to know," Arthur said loudly as they entered the lecture theatre, "The bloody Yank's been giving me the silent treatment. I don't even know what I did wrong."

"You know perfectly well what you did wrong!" Alfred hissed, not looking back at the Briton as he took a seat at the desk and folded his arms.

"Then what was it? Please don't say 'taxation without representation', or I'll stuff a teapot up your arse."

Alfred glared at him. "Like you'll ever touch my ass, at this rate!" he snapped.

"Like I want to!" Arthur huffed. Alfred turned the chair around and proceeded to ignore him pointedly. Arthur frowned and turned to the students.

"Don't mind him, he's on his period," he said jokingly to the students, cracking a small smile. The Arthur fangirls all swooned.

"Am not!" a distinctly pissed-off American voice resounded from behind him, but Arthur remained unfazed.

"Today, we're covering the bromance," he said, still grinning as he took out his laptop and pulled up the presentation. "A bromance is a close – but non-sexual – friendship between two or more men. It is like a historic romantic friendship, but… more modern." He seemed to lose a bit of his cheer as he continued to talk about bromances, because Alfred was pointedly ignoring everyone and skulking around behind the desk. To Jennifer (and all other USUK shippers), the scene just didn't seem to fit because of Alfred's sullen demeanour.

"Er…" Arthur continued after a moment of staring at his notes, "while bromance is a modern term, coined in the 1990s to describe relationships between men who spend a great deal of time together, the ideas behind it date back to Aristotle. He describes friendship as the bonds shared between 'those who desire the good for their friends for the friends' sake', and that both parties love each other for what they truly are, 'not for any incidental quality'. Friendships among men usually come from shared interests, like in sports, movies, camping, drinking, and gaming. There may also be more emotional sharing at the bromantic level, too."

Alfred continued to glare at everyone, looking like an overgrown child who had been denied his favourite toy. Arthur turned around and glared at him; Alfred looked away to the right. Arthur walked towards the right, still glaring; Alfred turned the other way.

"Bastard! Why can't you tell me what's wrong?" Arthur snapped.

"You know what's wrong!" Alfred groused.

"No, I don't! In case you're not aware, I'm not a mind reader!" Arthur hissed. He whirled back to look at the students. "Moving on, then! Men in bromances are often physically affectionate with each other, but that doesn't mean that they want to shag each other. Take the Bad Friends Trio –"

"Bad Touch!" several students screamed in unison.

"Whatever you call the relations between Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert," Arthur finished. "The Bad Friends Trio is a good example of a bromance. They spend time together and tease each other, but that doesn't mean they want to shag each other." He paused. "Francis might, though…"

Several students snorted. "All right, I've had enough of this damn Yank boring a hole into the back of my skull with his glaring," Arthur growled. "For homework, research a celebrity or fictional bromance and write me an essay on it. Class dismissed." Saying that, he stomped over to Alfred, pushed him out of his chair, and dragged him out of the room.

Moments later, a loud cry of "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER, YOU AMERICAN IDIOT?" shook the classroom.

"Taking bets, anyone? What do you think they're yelling about?" Kitty Smith, who still had her tally sheets from yesterday, demanded as she made her way through the fanstudents.

"I'll wager a bottle of nail polish that Alfred got pregnant," Sakura Kirkland yelled.

"Psh, no," Anastasia Debby called. "I'll bet you my last bar of chocolate that Alfred told him what happened yesterday and they're having consolation sex."

Kriss snorted. "As if! The dick competition happened yesterday – I bet Ivan…"

Silence.

"You going to bet on that, Kriss?" Kitty called from the other side of the room.

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Hugh?" There came a knock at the door, and Mr. Hugh opened it to see Shinbun-kun.

"What do you want?" the Course Coordinator demanded. Even if he wasn't Mr. Allen, he still knew what the reporter had done. Shinbun was bunking with Berwald and Tino for a _reason_, after all. "This better be good."

"Oh, it _is_ good, sir," the reporter replied with a grin. "The Bled Pinjas have just uncovered more evidence regarding the Halloween bombings."

Mr. Hugh raised both eyebrows. "Send them to me. Immediately."

Moments later, Pirate Arthur and Ninja Kiku walked into the office, clutching the shards of the punch bowl. "This wee strand o'air," Pirate Arthur explained immediately, holding up the hair for inspection, "Was found 'ere." He pointed to the rim of the bowl. "Me 'earty 'ere 'ad it examined."

"It's a Mary Sue hair," Ninja Kiku added. "Upon further examination by one of my doubles, we deduced that the proteins and cells in this strand of hair were absolutely inhuman."

"'Parently them cells were like lil' cute animals," Pirate Arthur cut in, sniggering. Ninja Kiku nodded.

"Only a Mary Sue would have cells shaped like cute animals. This one? Hers were shaped like cats. I am not jesting; here are the pictures." And he produced a folder from nowhere, handing it to Mr. Hugh.

"I see," the Course Coordinator remarked, looking at the pictures. "Have your… clones… traced the hair's DNA back to anyone? Like a student, maybe?"

"It be no match with any of ours," Pirate Arthur replied. "None o' me twins did this."

"And not mine, either. As for the students, the DNA profile is close to that of a student named Azure, but it is not a perfect match."

"I see," repeated Mr. Hugh, signalling them to leave. He looked at the photos and then pulled out a sheet detailing the results of the DNA testing. "Azure… isn't she a cat-girl?"

* * *

The three Baltics – Toris Lorinatis, Raivis Galante, and Eduard Von Bock – were running the newly-sprouted rental shop. For today, it was skating only. The students who had signed up only for skiing and snowboarding were walking through the snow with crestfallen expressions on their faces.

"I wanted to impress Iggy," Merka complained as she and Jennifer waited in line for their ice skates. "Oh well, I get to play hockey with Alfred today!"

Lake Eric had been deemed solidly frozen by now, so Matthew and Ivan were bringing out the hockey gear. All of the pucks had been mysteriously stolen, so Ludwig offered Karen DuLay's seventieth batch of cookies as substitutes. The cookies were hard enough to pass as pucks, after all.

Alfred skated out onto Lake Eric moments later, carrying a stick and looking slightly cheered up. He whacked Ivan's shins as he skated past; Ivan didn't seem to be affected at all. The students with the skates on quickly took to the ice, gliding out towards their instructors (or trying to glide, as the case may be. Azure didn't seem too steady on her skates).

"Shoe size?" Eduard asked as Jennifer got up to the front of the line.

"Er… six and a half," she said. The Estonian nodded, and his Lithuanian brother went to fetch the skates.

When she finally figured out how to lace up her skates and wobble out to the frozen lake, Workbitch was there doing figure eights. Seeing her, he smiled a little and skated back to the edge. "Hello," he said, his smile widening slightly. "I hope walking out here didn't take too much trouble, did it? Here, let's get your skate guards off." He got off the ice. "Sit down, please."

Jennifer did as she was told, and the secretary quickly removed the guards. "All right, now. Are you ready?"

"Are you?" Jennifer wondered, blushing as he took her hands.

"Of course. Let's start by walking around the edge," Workbitch suggested, smiling. "Don't worry if you slip; I'll catch you."

Jennifer still couldn't help but blush at that.

* * *

"All right!" Matthew Williams cheered as his team assembled around him. "We're going to be a great team, yeah?"

"Yeah!" cheered several students in response.

"Let's begin with some basics, then," the Canadian replied. "We're still getting everything settled, so the lines will be drawn later this week. Don't worry, they won't be in Bled, eh. For now, let me draw you a map of the rink." He skated over to the side and started drawing in the snow on the banks. "The rinks at mine and Alfred's place usually measure about two hundred feet by eighty-five feet. In Europe, they're a tad bigger, eh. It's in the general shape of a rounded rectangle, like so… and divided by a red line at the centre. There are also two blue lines on either side of the red."

By now, the other hockey players had gathered around to listen to Matthew's hockey lecture. Ivan and Alfred were shooting cookies at each other on the ice, and Hotaru nearly collided with Karin Guarez as she skated by, flailing her arms wildly.

"There are three zones in the hockey rink, eh," continued Matthew as Hotaru fell, nearly getting her fingers sliced off by Mitsuki Horenake as the other girl skated by. "The defending zone is where your team's goal is located. The neutral zone is the area between the two lines. The offensive zone is where your opponent's goal is located. As you know, the objective of hockey is to get the puck into the opponent's goal. You can't pick up the puck with your hands, so you have to use the stick to control it. You score by using the stick, as well."

Mitsuki Horenake suddenly stumbled over a rough patch in the ice and nearly broke her jaw.

"Now about the teams, eh." Matthew stood up and looked around at those gathered. "Each team has six people on the ice, and last time I checked Ivan only has four." He paused, looking at his own group. "Mitsuki Horenake seems to be taking her figure skating class today; someone will have to tell her that I'm transferring her to Ivan's team. Any other volunteers?"

Looking shy, Anita Khok raised a trembling hand. "Thank you, Miss Khok," Matthew said kindly. "So, I'll have to tell Ivan that he's got Mitsuki and Anita on his team. All right, back to the team structure, then. Six players per team, and substitutions are unlimited throughout the game. There will be one goalkeeper and five 'skaters' on each team – that's three forwards and two defensemen with the skaters. Everyone except the goalkeeper can go anywhere on the ice – the goalkeeper is limited to his or her half of the rink. No crossing the red line."

Behind them, Jennifer nearly crashed into the group as she tried to skate around them. Workbitch grabbed her by the hands and steered her away in the nick of time. Matthew grinned at the secretary before looking back at the hockey players. "You got all that, eh?" he asked. "That's enough for today. We'll talk about the game in depth next time. For now, I wanna see what you guys can do."

Alfred and Ivan came skating over, both of them nursing injuries. "Damn cookies," Alfred groused, gingerly rubbing a lump on the side of his head. "You taught them about the rink and the players, right, Mattie?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did. Ivan, you've got Anita on your team, eh. Mitsuki Horenake will be joining you later, after her figure skating lesson." Matthew nodded. "My team, head out to the centre of the lake. I wanna see what you can do, eh!"

* * *

"Lean a little more forward," Workbitch advised. "If you fall, it's better to fall forward." Jennifer nodded, still gripping his hand tightly as she continued to skate forward.

"Gah, I keep on feeling like I'm going to fall," she complained.

"Relax," Workbitch replied. "It'll be easier if you don't skate about so stiffly. Everyone's going to fall, you know."

"But the ice is so hard," Jennifer whined, hearing the screams of Hotaru and Mitsuki from behind. They were screaming something about Yong-Soo crashing into Yao in an attempt to grope the other's chest.

"Don't worry. Bend your knees and trust the ice. Let's keep going – lean on your weak foot and then push diagonally with your strong foot. Yes, like that. Come on, keep going! Bring the right foot back in and repeat it. You're relying on your right foot to push you forward – just do it faster and faster if you want to glide." They were skating faster now, hand-in-hand. Jennifer found herself slowly starting to relax. Hey, this was actually a bit fun!

"Like this?" she asked, looking at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes, like this." The hockey players were skating out to the centre of the rink, shepherded by their coaches. "You're doing fine. Don't worry." Workbitch's words comforted her as they moved along the ice; Jennifer actually wondered what it would be like to jump.

After a while, she felt more confident and finally let go of Workbitch's hand. But moments after that, her insecure mind caught up with her. Jennifer started to wobble.

"Woah, woah!" the secretary called, skating over as gravity won and Jennifer fell. He stopped and knelt down next to her, offering her his hand. "Are you all right?"

"O-ow," Jennifer mumbled, clambering unsteadily to her feet. They began to skate again, Jennifer's cheeks burning bright crimson.

"There's a patch of thin ice over there, near the dock," Workbitch warned as they headed towards the pirate ships. Pirate Spain and Pirate France were skating as well. They were doing a pretty decent job, it seemed. "We'll have to try and avoid it… but all I know is that it's near the dock. I don't know the exact location."

"Well, that's comforting," Jennifer replied sardonically. She had let go of his hands again but was keeping very close to him. "You still have to teach me how to stop."

"I'll cover that once you can skate confidently," he replied, smiling at her.

Jennifer smiled back, but suddenly the ice underneath her cracked. She slipped and fell, crashing through thin ice into the freezing water below.


	15. The Hockey Rage Begins

**Notes:** Sorry about not getting this up earlier, but I've got SATs coming up in about a week or so, so… yeah. Don't expect daily updates until that's done.

* * *

**Part XV**

Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

Jennifer winced as she woke up. Ow. Damn nerves, suddenly deciding to remind her that she fell through ice into a freezing lake. Ow. Damn lake, with its icy dagger-like coldness. Ow.

At least she was somewhere warm and soft, with someone holding her hand – wait, _what_?

"What's going on?" she demanded hoarsely, opening her eyes. "Where am I? What time is it?"

"It's Friday afternoon already," a calm voice said from next to her. "You were out for quite a while, because we had to fish you out from the bottom of the lake and then... well, defrost you. You're actually lucky we didn't have to resurrect you as well."

"Wait, I was out for an entire day?" Jennifer snapped, turning to the side to look at Workbitch, who was sitting in a chair at the bedside. "And where am I, again?"

"My room. One of the hockey players broke the heater in the girls' dormitories with one of those rock-solid cookies. Are you feeling any better?"

Well, now she could feel her cheeks since they flared up with heat. "F-fine," Jennifer mumbled, looking at him. He had been lightly grasping her wrist, almost as if checking for a pulse. Damn heartbeat-skipping.

She looked around the room, noticing the pictures of plants and flowers all around. He had set a vase of cheery yellow roses at his bedside, along with a pot of amaryllises on his desk facing the window. "You work in here, too?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to the desk.

"No, I've an office for paperwork. That's for my hobbies." He looked slightly sheepish.

"Let me guess. You like scrapbooking," Jennifer said. He shook his head. She grinned. "All right… um… drawing? Knitting? Embroidery? Golf? Fishing? Skating?"

"None of those," Workbitch replied.

"Um… collecting things? Calligraphy?" He shook his head. "Gardening?"

"Yes, I like that," he said, looking a bit pink in the face. "Gardening and floriography. I got my interests in them from Arthur, to be honest. He's very good at creating messages with flowers."

"So what do the yellow roses mean?" Jennifer asked curiously.

"Friendship," he said, smiling at her. She blushed.

"And the amaryllises?" she asked, looking away.

"Pride, timidity, or splendid beauty." He shrugged. "It's not a very masculine hobby, is it?"

"No," she admitted, giggling. "But it's cute."

He smiled, and Jennifer was vaguely aware of their fingers entwining. She made no move to pull away.

"You know, the Netherlands built a conservatory somewhere in the Staff section," Workbitch said after a moment of companionable silence. "He grows tulips in there. All the Nations contributed their national flowers. Of course, it's new and none of the flowers are blooming… so we're all waiting for spring."

"It'll be lovely in spring, I bet," Jennifer said absentmindedly, leaning back against the pillows.

"Mm, that it will." At that moment, the door opened and Mr. Allen walked in. The two quickly let go of each other's hands.

"Don't think I didn't catch that," Mr. Allen remarked, raising an eyebrow at Workbitch. "We've got some more petitions to read, as well as revising the quarantine order for the… you know where." The secretary nodded, so the Course Coordinator turned back to Jennifer. "Miss Chang."

"Hello, sir," Jennifer mumbled.

"I trust you are feeling better?" Mr. Allen asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"Er, loads better."

"Good. Well, I'm most displeased at you. By falling into that lake, you've set a terrible example for the other students. The hospital wing has been inundated with hypothermic students who fell through the ice in the hopes of ending up in the Staff Section like you."

"But I didn't tell them to," Jennifer mumbled, looking sheepish.

"Of course not. Do you know how long it took us to fish them out of the lake? Some of them had even died." Mr. Allen shook his head. "Next thing you know, the rest of them will be asking the Rome-Wall to fall on them so that their Lust Objects can dig them out."

"Like that's going to happen," Workbitch muttered.

"Indeed. Come along now, Work, we've got work to do." Mr. Allen swept from the room with all the dignity of a king, followed by his secretary. At the door, Workbitch turned to look at her.

"Sleep," he advised, smiling.

Jennifer had never been so glad to follow advice before in her life.

* * *

"All righ', mes amis, we 'ave anuzzer meesion," Pirate Francis declared triumphantly, waving his rapier about excitedly. "Zere ees a Mary Sue here in IAHF. We 'ave to find 'er… and _keel_ 'er."

"Sounds like a plan!" giggled Pirate Antonio. He had become a little unstable after having discovered Chibi Alfred's chocolate supply; being exposed to New World delicacies like chocolate had upset his already hay-wire Spaniard brain.

"Come on, man, we're gonna kill the 'Sue! Let's go kill the 'Sue!" Teutonic Knight Gilbert screamed, drawing his sword. "WHERE'S THE 'SUE? LEMME AT 'ER! I'LL SHOW HER WHO'S AWESOME!"

"Calm down, calm down, mon petit!" Pirate Francis snapped. "Ze Mary Sue ees hiding zumwhere een ze _conservatoire_. She can't be 'ard to meess; she's got cat ears."

"THEN LEMME AT 'ER!" the little Teutonic Knight screamed, forgetting everything about chivalry. Chivalry was for sissies!

The two pirates and the mismatched little knight charged down the hallway. "Ze _conservatoire_ ees at ze end of zis 'all," Pirate Francis added as they ran. "Let's get in zere before Ahssur et Keeku come along. Zey'll ruin ze fun." They were referring, of course, to the Bled Pinja Arthur and Kiku duo – not that it mattered to Pirate Francis, though, since he rivalled the Arthurs in just about everything.

Pirate Antonio piped up again, giggling like a squirrel on helium. "Look, a bouncing tomato!"

"What the hell was in America's chocolate?" Teutonic Gilbert demanded as they swung open the door to the conservatory.

The conservatory had glass panels on the walls and the roof, and the wide variety of foliage in the room rendered it just a couple plants short of a jungle. The three split up: Francis went right, Gilbert went left, and the sugar-high Antonio crashed into a palm tree.

Francis took out his instructions, trying to make sense of them again. His English – as one may have guessed by his _extremely_ thick accent – was quite limited, so for a moment he leaned against a bamboo shoot trying to decode the 'leettle squeegglees' on the piece of paper.

"Zut alors," he growled, folding the paper angrily. "Eef zey 'ad geeven me _une carte_, I'd 'ave found 'er by now."

There was a dart of pink to his right. The French pirate turned about rapidly, slashing through several varieties of fern. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

Another rustle. "Arr, show yeself!"

The last thing he heard before he was painfully knocked out was a girlish giggle.

* * *

"Well?" Mr. Allen looked up at Shinbun-kun. "What happened?"

"The three Staff members sent to round up the Mary Sue have… disappeared," the reporter said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Lost… somewhere in the conservatory."

Workbitch frowned from next to Mr. Allen. "You are sure of this?"

"They haven't left the conservatory yet, and it's been hours since they entered – according to one of Kiku's cameras," Shinbun replied.

"They were also incompetent fools," Mr. Allen replied harshly. "Two of them were Pirates who couldn't even speak English properly. The third was a young and twice as hot-headed Gilbert. Do you honestly think they could have found the 'Sue?"

"No, which makes me think that someone with more skills at tracking ought to be enlisted," Shinbun replied.

Mr. Allen nodded. "Yes… I know. You may leave." Shinbun turned. "Oh, and… you know what?"

"What?" Shinbun asked, turning around again.

Mr. Allen took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for overreacting about the documents," he said. "It was just that… I didn't think that the Staff could handle the news well… since we're a new school… but now with the Halloween bomb culprit hiding in the Staff Section…" He sighed, and then nodded again. "Next time, _ask_ before you look at documents."

"Yes, sir," the reporter said, saluting the Course Coordinator before leaving the room.

Mr. Allen waited for the door to close before turning to Workbitch. "You know, if we got the students to help…?"

* * *

People might have forgotten Matthew Williams before – but when it came to hockey season, no one forgot him.

If they mistook him for Alfred, they might end up with a hockey stick stuck somewhere painful.

"This is what I want you to do, eh," the Canadian instructed. After the hockey rink had been delineated, he, Alfred, and Ivan had all drawn straws about their practice schedules. Poor Matthew got the short one, so his team practised after dinner, in the glow of streetlamps that had been temporarily raised for hockey season.

The students all shuffled forward into a line. Matthew skated down along the line. "I want you to skate from here – the net – over to the first blue line and back. Then skate from here to the red line and back. Repeat it with the second blue line. I am giving you two minutes to do this; if you don't make it in time you'll just have to catch up with the rest. We're clear, eh?"

The students looked at each other fearfully.

Matthew smiled. "Good!" He blew the whistle. "Go!"

Off they skated, to the lines and back. As they did so, Ivan strode out to the lake with a grin and a bottle of vodka.

"Alfred's team?" he asked as he took a seat on the dock. "Practising?"

Matthew blew the whistle again, so the students had no time to respond. The Canadian then turned to the Russian.

"It's Matthew, eh! Now get out! Get out!" He flapped his arms wildly before grabbing a hockey stick and prodding Ivan.

"Alfred, there's no need to be so upset, da?" Ivan asked, still looking mildly confused. "I mean, I did apologise to you and Arthur…"

"I SAID, I'M MATTHEW! NOW GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I BREAK YOUR BACK WITH MY HOCKEY STICK!" Ivan looked as if he was about to retort, but thought better of it as Matthew raised the stick.

"Oh, Matthew, this is why we're glad hockey season only happens once a year," the Russian sighed.

Matthew blew the whistle once more and prodded Ivan back into the nearest building. The students groaned, dragging themselves back out to the lines. "I'm so fucking tired," Laurel Martin complained as she skated back to the net. Sara Parker was trying to catch her breath by leaning on the net.

"Away from the net!" Matthew barked, blowing his whistle as he returned. Sara complied, skating wearily back out to the lines. Everyone was weary by now, though, but no one had enough breath to ask Matthew for a reprieve.

The whistle blew again, and Azure collapsed. Her tail twitched, but otherwise she lay quite still. "Is she dead?" Lucy whispered.

"I don't know, but she'll be taken to Auchwits now. Canda, Canadia, take her there." The Mochis hopped off Matthew's shoulder and blobbed onto the cat-girl, bouncing her away.

Matthew turned to the students. "In case you haven't noticed by now, we're a serious bunch. Alfred, Ivan, and I are all very serious about this sport. Forget yesterday's fun and games – that was the only easy day of training you'll get, eh."

Tori and Lydia exchanged worried glances. Gregory Bob Walton looked at his skates.

"If you want to beat Ivan or Alfred's team, you're going to have to practice very hard, eh. Don't think that hockey's a game where people skate around whacking sticks at each other – hockey is more serious than that. In Canada, hockey is part of our culture. People rioted when Maurice Richard was suspended. People rejoiced when we beat the United States at Vancouver in 2010. If you're going to play, then you're going to play it well, or I'll break your back with a hockey stick, eh."

Akiko Arihima, who claimed to be a ninja (which, according to IAHF standards, meant that she walked soundlessly and often found herself on the ceiling without even knowing how she got there. Oh, and the Bled-coloured ninja gear. She refused to carry her shuriken around because they burned her eyes), muttered something about Matthew's scary attitude during hockey season.

"Now we're going to figure out who's going to be goalkeeper. Everyone, line up at the net. I will make ten shots; the person who deflects the most of them will be the new goalkeeper."

"But we're not wearing padding or anything," Lydia pointed out.

"That's nothing," Matthew replied. "Back in the early days, people played hockey without helmets, eh."

Everyone winced.

* * *

"I pity those people on Matthew's team," Merka commented as she and Kriss shared a cup of hot cocoa in their room. "They haven't stopped practice, and it's already midnight."

"Six hours," Kriss whistled, taking a sip of cocoa. "They'll probably pass out at breakfast tomorrow. Or is that later today?"

"Lucky them, it's Saturday." Merka smiled at Kriss, and for a moment, the two wondered how they, a USUK fangirl and an Asakiku fangirl, could have ever figured out how to get along.

"What's on Saturday's agenda?" Kriss asked after a moment, hiding her growing blush behind the cocoa mug.

"Nothing. They're still trying to put up the ski lift that leads to the top of Evrest." Another misspelled geographic location had led to a mountain being transplanted onto the IAHF campus – and the addition of this fairly large hill (although its size was only a small fraction of that of its namesake) had been largely welcomed by the staff. The Mochis were planning to relocate the Golag to the top of Evrest as soon as the winter sports craze amongst the Nations dies down.

"Well, who knew you could make molehills out of mountains?" Kriss asked sarcastically. "Didn't Evrest pop up like… last night?"

"Yeah, according to Shinbun someone was writing a fanfic about Tibet. They even created Tubet." Merka pointed to the meditating Mochi sitting on their bookshelf. "Isn't he adorable?"

"Quite nice," agreed Kriss. "Say, whatever happened to Jennifer? She fell through the ice yesterday and we haven't heard from her since."

"Probably being resurrected or something," Merka replied. "What about her roommate, the alien? Megan?"

"Dunno, off with her girlfriend? Although she's been winking at what's-his-face…"

"Taylor? Isn't he gay or something?"

"No, not him. Andrew. Yeah, she's been looking interested in Andrew for a while."

The two girls looked darkly at each other. "Dude, if she cheats," Merka sighed, "we're going to be in for some drama."

"Tell me about it," Kriss replied, rolling her eyes.


	16. Of IKEA Erotica and Stockholm Syndrome

**Notes:** Booting the rating up to M, since the innuendo's getting pretty… heavy. Especially in this chapter, as it's more Sex Ed with Finland and Sweden. Also, I'm opening general registration again, because international schools usually accept more students around wintertime as well for those on the other side of the world or something.

**Warning:** Lots of references to sex and a mention of rape at the end. Read at your own risk.

* * *

**Part XVI**

"My ass hurts."

"My legs hurt."

"My head hurts."

"Hockey practice last night was a bitch?" Summer Elizabeth Smith asked sympathetically at breakfast on Sunday morning. The members of Matthew's team nodded and gingerly seated themselves. Some of them hadn't even changed out of their hockey gear.

"Who knew Matthew could be this cruel?" Sara Parker lamented. "Although you have to admit he looks even more manly and awesome threatening to violate us with hockey sticks…"

"Only you, Sara, only you," Shannon Price sighed.

Jennifer had returned to the Student Section yesterday, and much to her embarrassment the entire student body seemed keenly interested about her tenure in the Staff Section. Right now, she was sitting in a dark corner trying to be invisible – since she wasn't Matthew, she failed.

"Hey, we were looking for you, _Mrs. Bartholomew_!" Kitty cackled as she walked past the corner. "Was it any good?"

"Was what any good?" Jennifer echoed, confused.

"Well, you're dating him, aren't you?"

"No!" Jennifer grimaced. "Why'd you think that?"

Megan came skipping over, the biggest and most troll-like of big troll-like grins plastered on her face. "Come on, you're sitting with me, dammit! I'm going to hear all the juicy details first!"

"I got to her first!" Kitty huffed.

Megan stuck out her tongue at her. "I'm her roommate, for fuck's sake!"

At that moment, Anita Khok piped up. "So, did you hear that Merka Breigher likes Kriss Kross?" she asked Emmanuella in a carrying stage whisper. "And Taylor Drews-Garcia and Mike Hawk are –"

"Shut up!" Mike Hawk snapped from across the room, his face bright red.

"I'm only saying that you two are friends with benefits," Anita said innocently. "Also, I'm definitely looking forward to the second part of Finland and Sweden's seminar today; isn't the rest of you? Oh, Karen, I tried one of your cookies and nearly broke my teeth on them. How are you going to get Ludwig to eat them if they're so hard?"

"I was distracted when I made that batch, okay?" Karen DuLay groaned, looking rather despondent for once (it might have something to do with Destchland and Alemange sneaking into her room in the middle of the night and dying her hair Bled. Those sneaky Mochis had apparently learnt a few tricks from Ninja Kiku).

"Oh, fine. So, Akiko, having trouble with sitting today?"

"You'd be having the same problems if you fell on your ass seventy times during training yesterday," the ninja student replied before suddenly finding herself on the ceiling. "Okay, I hate these random ninja moves that unexpectedly sneak up on me," she called from her position. "Someone care to get me down?"

"Can't fly, sorry." Sabrina called from another part of the room. "I confronted Mr. Allen about it, but he must've been PMSing because he told me to read about the laws of gravity." The part-unicorn girl nickered in annoyance and slammed her face into her plate in an attempt to eat her food without her hands.

"Watching people suffer is a pastime of mine," Karen added with a grin.

"So in return, we watch you suffer at Ludwig's hands – maybe not this time, though," Alexandria Peterson pointed out, averting her eyes from Karen's Bled-coloured hair. The other girl wasn't about to wash her hair with mashed turnip any time soon ("What if Ludwig hates turnip-scented hair?"), despite her peers' protests.

Jennifer reluctantly took a seat with Megan at the North American table (Megan and Lucia had moved there to keep their eyes on Kriss and Merka, because if there was one thing that teenaged Hetalia fans liked just as much as horny personified countries, it was gossip). Almost immediately the USUK faction (they called themselves the Special Relationshippers, but everyone else called them the USUKers) leaned in together to bombard her with questions.

It was like 'Meet the Press', but worse. Especially since 'Meet the Press' didn't necessarily call for recounting personal experiences in gory detail.

"Are you going back to the Staff Section? For a _rendezvous_, maybe?" Celeste asked, grinning wider than the Cheshire cat. "God, I love how French makes everything sound more romantic…"

"Er… no," Jennifer replied, suddenly very interested in her Belgian waffles.

"Anyways, you don't pronounce it 'ren-dez-vuzz'," Shelby piped up from the Europe table. "It's 'ron-day-voo'."

"That sounds even more perverted!" Celeste cackled.

"But seriously, what did you do?" Hotaru demanded. "Come on, you can tell us, right?"

"To be truthful, no," Jennifer replied. "It's just… one of those private moments. The sort that you don't want to share with anyone… you know?"

"So you guys scored a home run?" Merka demanded, resorting to baseball innuendo like a true American.

Jennifer blinked. "What was that again?" she asked.

"A home run," Merka repeated slowly, with the air of a kindergarten teacher trying to implement the idea of sharing. "You know! Hint, hint, wink, wink, say no more?"

"…" Jennifer goggled at her. Megan leaned over and whispered something in her ear. "OH! THAT! FUCK! NO!"

"Summarising it all up in four words – I'm proud of you," Kriss cut in sarcastically. She usually sat at the Asia table, but today she was sitting next to Merka for some strange reason.

Jennifer glared and hid her face in her arms.

* * *

Over at the long-forgotten Australian table, the Nerd Group was convening to discuss the latest developments in staff news. Karin had the _Bled Chronicles_ spread out over the middle of the table, and Tori was reading her copy while eating her breakfast.

"So, apparently a Mary Sue's in the Staff Section?" Franklin Livingston asked. Across from him, Ryosuke Nakayama (who got into the group for bringing his collection of Shakespeare as his luxury item) nodded. "Precisely how does this affect us?"

"If the Mary Sue tampers with the staff, then the staff's integrity is compromised," Tori replied immediately. "By becoming slaves to the Mary Sue's will, the purpose of this Academy becomes moot."

"All right. So now they're requesting for students to find her, with the incentive of entering the Staff Section," Anastasia Debby added. She had entered the group to contribute her extensive knowledge of Asian history to their regular mealtime debates. "They're basically bribing us."

"That's true, because Shinbun points out that some staff members have been unsuccessful in locating the Mary Sue, and haven't been heard from since their entry into the conservatory," Carolina Brown pointed out. "Wait, so the Mary Sue's in a greenhouse?"

"Pretty much." Tori nodded. "I wonder how long it'll take for the others to realise that they can get into the staff section to become Mary Sue bait."

"Not too long, I presume," Franklin replied, adjusting his glasses and frowning at the paper again.

"Anyways," Anastasia said as she poured more maple syrup onto her waffles. "Today's the second part of the Sex Ed seminar. Who's looking forward to it?"

Tori and Karin grinned. "Well, it's definitely going to be informative," Ryosuke mumbled. "But last time… that list of bad lubricants…" He winced.

"I've heard about people who've tried using those," Franklin added. "Must've hurt. I don't know, I hate human contact."

"Scared of catching cooties?" Tori taunted. The boy flushed.

"N-no! I'm just allergic to a lot of things, you know! Oh shit, here come the hives from eating the enriched flour that these waffles are probably made of." Saying that, he dashed off to the bathroom.

"It must suck to be allergic to everything," Carolina sighed.

* * *

The IAHF staff was having a rather amusing morning. "You know we're never going to let you live this down, right?" Gilbert asked a madly blushing Arthur at breakfast, waving around a sheaf of paper. "This has got to be the worst porn that I have ever read. And I've read a lot of porn."

"Pretty much everyone here has read a lot of porn," Francis pointed out. "Even Liechtenstein."

Gilbert raised both eyebrows before looking down the table at the innocent-looking blonde girl. "Wait, what? We're talking about the same Liechtenstein, right?"

"Yeah, she has quite a lot of stories about her," Belgium piped up. "Poor child. It drives Basch nuts, though."

"Wait, don't you mean Vash?" Francis asked. He (and a majority of the students) had always called Switzerland Vash, but some of the German-speaking Nations stuck with Basch. It was one of those petty debates, much like the spelling of Nataliya's name (which was why the Belarusian woman had decided to use both the Y and the I in the end).

"Shut up," the Swiss man being discussed snapped. "Let's just be neutral about that, all right?"

"You're neutral about everything," Belgium sniffed. "And I thought I was a stickler for neutrality!" She cast a withering glare at Ludwig.

"But back to the original topic," Gilbert added, grinning at Arthur. "This fic. I am going to run through the halls yelling about it at the top of my lungs. And then I'm going to make a billion copies and distribute it to the students. This fic needs to be laughed at."

"Don't be like that," Roderich chastised. "Would you like it if I took one of your most embarrassing stories and did the same?"

"Well, same to you, Herr Pianosexual," Gilbert retorted. "You know, I still have that story about you and the piano…"

Roderich turned bright red and muttered something that sounded like "Halt deine Fresse". Gilbert snickered, but turned back to Arthur.

"Honestly, you ramming your 'cock of fury' into Alfred's 'chocolate sea star'? This stuff is gold! And all that 'baby batter'? Mein Gott, no wonder you two have so many colonies!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Alfred and Arthur snapped at the same time. They then proceeded to pretend that it never happened.

"Gilbert, at this rate you're going to start another World War," Mr. Hugh advised from the head of the table. "Just… shut up. And put the story away. We don't need to add Prussian blackmail to the top of our list of worries."

"But it's Prussian awesome mail, not blackmail!" Gilbert complained.

"You dumbass, we don't need to know any more about how Alfred and Arthur did the fucking 'horizontal tango', pun intended," Lovino snapped. "So just shut your mouth before they nuke it shut for you."

Gilbert complied, because Alfred had pulled out his handy-dandy Pocket Nuke. Hey, his never-ending contest with Ivan had to come with some weapon upgrades, right?

* * *

When ten o'clock came, the students all eagerly crowded outside the Sexual Clarification lecture hall, waiting for Tino and Berwald. "I wonder what they're going to cover for yuri and het," Arianna Borrel sighed.

"I hope they point out that rape doesn't lead to love," Sally muttered darkly, shooting nasty glares at Sakura Kirkland. Apparently the other girl had spent Saturday night talking about the 'kawaii romantic rape fics' that she had written before attending IAHF. Needless to say, Sally wanted to switch roommates.

"I'm more concerned with how some people like to mistake the clitoris for the vagina," Megan piped up, wincing slightly. Lucia looked horrified.

"But… but they're different things! And it'd hurt!"

"I know, but some people have tried to stick things in there in fanfic!"

"Don't even remind me," Carolina Brown declared loudly, "about lavender-coloured body parts." Anyone who knew what she was referring to winced. _That_ fanfic had thankfully not been for Hetalia, but it was horrendously scarring for anyone who had the misfortune to read it.

"And having sexual intercourse with wargs," Franklin added with a grimace.

"And having three-inch-long nipples," William Ofritas muttered, shuddering.

Tino Väinämöinen and Berwald Øxenstierna chose that moment to arrive on the scene, followed by Elisabeta Héderváry. "Wait, what's Hungary doing here?" one of the guys demanded, hiding his drooling behind his binder.

"I'm helping Tino and Berwald teach the class today, so don't even think about it," the Hungarian woman snapped, taking out her frying pan. Everyone got the message and backed away.

"Don't scar them _too_ badly," Tino chided as everyone entered the lecture hall.

"But what's the fun in _that_?" Elisabeta wondered, pouting.

Everyone quickly took their seats. Tino and Berwald started fiddling with their laptop, and Elisabeta grinned as she prowled around the podium with her frying pan. Hungry and Hedevary bounced at her heels.

"All right, then," Tino coughed. "Welcome to the second part of 'Sexual Clarification'. Today, we're covering the het and yuri – Kiku calls it yuri, right? – pornfics." The Power Point presentation, titled 'Back-Breaking Breasts (And Other Aspects of Bad Heterosexual and Lesbian Porn)', flashed across the screen, accompanied with a picture of a girl running away from a bunch of green, wriggly tentacles. Some of the students snickered at that.

"L't's r'c'nt," Berwald added. "H'w m'ny 'f y' wr't' h't 'nd y'r' p'rnf'cs?"

"Er, Su-san, we can't understand what you're saying," Jodie Smith said sweetly.

"He's asking how many of you write het and yuri pornfics," Tino explained helpfully. At that, several hands went up.

"All right, so how many of those are for het?" Elisabeta asked. Some hands went down. "And yuri?" Others went up. "I see."

"Everyone in here attended the last seminar on yaoi, right?" Tino asked; everyone nodded. "Good, good. Onwards?"

Berwald nodded. "W'r' st'rt'ng w'th y'r', th'n," he grunted.

"Everyone knows the mechanics behind lesbian sexual intercourse, right?" Elisabeta asked, and most people nodded. "All right, for those who don't, the main parts of lesbian sex are mutual masturbation, oral, and the usage of toys. Strap-ons and dildos are particularly popular." The boys looked horrendously embarrassed at her frankness, casting wary glances at the girls. Megan and Lucia had identical sheepish expressions on their faces.

Grinning, Elisabeta continued. "Let's cover the first misconception that almost fifty percent of the human population seems to have about girls – that they pee out of their vagina. This is false. In case you haven't studied Biology, a woman's urethra is completely separate from her vagina. The opening to the urethra is very small, so don't try jamming anything in there. You're likely to get a good kick to the balls for your troubles, guys." More wincing from the males. The girls grinned, exchanging smug glances.

Tino coughed again, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Moving on," he said. "No, women do not have penises. Those pictures floating around on Kiku's computer of girls who do have them? Not natural. A woman might get one attached surgically, but..." he trailed off, grimacing. "Let's not go there, please."

"But going back to the plumbing that they _naturally_ have," Elisabeta cut in. "Please make sure you understand the difference between the vagina and the vulva. There are so many people – especially amongst you Americans – who confuse the two."

"What's the difference?" Mike Hawk demanded.

"The vulva is the exterior part of the female genitalia. The vagina is the interior part. You are not going to see a girl's vagina unless you've got a speculum." Elisabeta paused. "And no, I will not personally demonstrate the difference."

Some of the guys (and several girls, too) groaned in disappointment. Elisabeta shot them a withering glare.

"Let's continue with the vagina rant, all right? The secretions from that place do not taste like strawberries, honey, ice-cream sundaes, or anything other than fucking bitter with a mild salty tang. Unless the woman was using flavoured lube, she will not ooze 'vanilla crème'. Those secretions do not come out of the clitoris. Beer bottles make bad dildos, and the same goes for just about anything else that wide – especially without lube. Things with hard edges also make bad dildos. No, you cannot stuff the vagina into another girl's anus. Girls do not have testes. Most girls do not ejaculate – in fact; it's hard for us ladies to experience orgasm. Those girls who... er, ejaculate... usually have had their G-spots simulated extensively – but let me remind you all that the existence of that happy spot is still being debated. Anything else, Tino and Berwald?"

Tino frowned. "Er, a woman cannot 'sperm'," he pointed out. "And… talk about femslash pregnancy."

Elisabeta raised her eyebrows. "Wait, _femslash pregnancy_?"

Tori raised her hand. "Well, I've heard of this feminist argument saying that women could force ova to combine to create more female embryos, thus eliminating the need for men," she said, and all of the males in the room looked nauseated at the idea.

"That could be done scientifically," Tino pointed out. "But I heard about this one fanfic – not from Hetalia – where a woman had a _natural _femslash pregnancy. That came from, and I quote, them 'rubbing their cunts together so hard that their eggs touched and made an embryo, and one of the girls got pregnant with a baby girl'."

Pause. "BUT THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" the females screamed in unison.

"But that was actually in a badfic, so we decided to enlighten you about it. So, I hope you all know that naturally forming an embryo through lesbian intercourse is biologically improbable." There were several weak nods from all the students in the room. "Moving on, then?"

"Please," groaned Elisabeta, looking as if she was still trying to figure out how two women could make their eggs combine by rubbing up against each other. "Let's talk about the clitoris, shall we? In case you don't know, a clitoris – colloquially termed the 'clit', is a little nub of very sensitive flesh that sticks out above the vestibule. During the early stages of pregnancy, an embryo has a set of urogenital folds with a small protuberance in the middle. That protuberance either lengthens into a penis or shrinks to become a clitoris. Based on that, I'm sure the guys in this room can tell how sensitive that little sucker is. And no, the clitoris is _not_ synonymous with the vagina. You don't put things into it." Amongst the students, Megan winced in agreement.

"Wait... can a girl… orgasm… if you touch her clit?" Taylor Drews-Garcia asked curiously.

"Three-quarters of us say yes," Elisabeta replied. "Oh come off it, girls, don't look as if you've never touched yourself before," she snapped suddenly. Almost none of the females met her gaze. "Sissies," she sniffed. "Moving on to measurements, then. Please, for the love of GOD don't put measurements in your fanfics. You're likely to make some grievous measuring errors. For example, a woman will not have a two-inch waist or three-feet-long breasts. There is no way that her nipples will measure three inches long, either. And don't even get me started on men's sizes."

"Well, we covered that last week, so why don't we move on to het?" Tino suggested. "Let's just start this off with an assertion that there _are_ straight Nations in Hetalia. That's another common misconception about the Hetalia canon in general – that because all the male Nations are casually affectionate with their male allies, they must all be homosexual. That's not true. If anything, Nations should be bisexual because they form bilateral alliances with their peers regardless of gender."

"Nevertheless, there have been some rather… awful… het stories with porn scenes in them, so we'll just point out some common mistakes," Elisabeta added. "Biggest issue, pun not intended, is dick size. Tino talked about the improbabilities of having a five-metre-long dick last time, so I'm just going to say it again. Bigger doesn't mean better. If Arthur is screwing around with your Mary Sue OC and rams _his_ five metres into her, she will have a one hundred percent chance of dying. Not that I'm complaining, if she's a Mary Sue."

"Also, it would be impossible for the 'Sue's belly to show the protrusion of Arthur's five metres," Tino continued, "and he will not inflate her with semen, especially not to the point that the aforementioned 'baby batter' –" (Elisabeta giggled, remembering the breakfast incident) "– starts coming out of her navel and her breasts."

"And don't get me started on how some people in bad erotica can apparently feel a penetrating dick in their throat," Elisabeta groaned, rolling her eyes. "Look, if the penis comes in contact with the cervix – the opening to the uterus, if you slept through Biology – during intercourse, it's not a nice feeling. Just a warning for all of you size-obsessed freaks. Double penetration, which is basically two guys shoving their junk into two out of three of a girl's bottom orifices, is a bad idea unless the girl's used to it. Also, a man cannot ejaculate directly into the uterus – there's a mucous plug blocking the entrance that only lets a select few sperm cells enter. Continuing in the orgasm vein, it is rare for couples to climax at the same time, and usually women try to 'ride out' their climaxes – it doesn't last for just two seconds, you know. It's also impossible to give birth just by achieving orgasm while pregnant. If that was true, then there'd be more miscarriages in this world." She paused for breath. "Moving back to the hymen. This is a membrane that partially covers the vaginal opening; it is semi-permeable and breaks easily. Yes, you heard me. Unless you have an unhealthily thick hymen, you might run the risk of deflowering yourself by riding horses or fighting."

"There's a common myth that virgins always bleed during sex," Tino added. "The penis, as Elisabeta indirectly pointed out, is not the only way to break the hymeneal membrane. Unfortunately, this misconception has held throughout history and across cultures, so there are some societies that try to restore virginity by reconstructing the hymen. Others have ostracised young brides for having very thin hymens or breaking them in a non-sexual activity prior to marriage."

"Aren't there some cultures where families dangle the sheets on the wedding bed out the window the day after the wedding night?" Karin wondered. "To prove a girl's virginity and such?"

"Misconceptions, once more," Elisabeta replied. "Most unfortunate for the girl who likes horseback riding."

Berwald had reached the last slide now (he had been steadily clicking away as Tino and Elisabeta lectured). "Th'nk w'v' c'v'r'd 'vryth'ng?" he asked.

"There's still the across the spectrum stuff," Tino replied. "And a little class work."

"Class work?" Neira Henrietta echoed. She and one of the Alexandrias (Jennifer was sure it was Alexandria Peterson) had formed an Iceland fan club, which, according to rumour, was named 'Ice Queens for Iceland'. That made no sense, since neither girl was an ice queen.

"Yes, you'll do a little class work after we finish the lecture," the Finn replied. "Sverige, you should find the presentation for the rest of our lecture in that same folder; it's called 'IKEA Erotica (And Some Other Aspects of Bad Porn, Period)'."

"N'c' 'f y' t' m'nt'n m' f'rn't'r' st'r'," the Swede replied sarcastically as he opened the presentation.

"Well, it's true. Since we're on the topic of IKEA erotica, why don't we begin the lecture with that?" Tino grinned a grin that might have looked better on Ivan. "Who here _hasn't_ heard of IKEA?" Only one or two people raised their hands.

"Y'v' b'n l'v'ng 'nd'r r'cks," Berwald grumbled. "M' f'rn't'r' 's th' b'st."

"Right, so everyone who does knows exactly how _arousing_ it is to assemble furniture from there, right?" Tino continued drily, flashing a grin at Berwald. "You know, you don't have to write a sex scene if you're uncomfortable about it. Don't use a Biology textbook to write those scenes. You'll sound like some old professor at the University of Helsinki."

"The purpose of writing erotica is to make the reader experience what the characters are feeling – in fact, the purpose of writing in general is to make readers become engrossed in your characters," Elisabeta added. "If you're going to just do 'and then he put his hard sex against his soft sex and they had sex' _ad nauseam_, then what's the point? You'll turn off all of your readers."

"If you'd rather not do a sex scene in your fanfic, then just do one of those 'fade to black' moments," Tino suggested. "It's better than writing something so dull that the characters might as well be assembling one of Berwald's famous flat-packed bed frames."

"M'v'ng 'n," said Swede snapped, his face bright red. "T'n', t'lk 'bout th' 'r'ng 'r'f'c'."

Elisabeta looked at Tino, frowning in confusion. Tino shrugged as Berwald changed slides.

"The O-Ring Orifice, then," the Finn muttered. "First off, everyone try to put your fist in your mouth."

"Wait, why?" Laurel Martin demanded.

"You'll see. Just attempt it," Tino replied sweetly. Some of the students complied – all of them failed to get anything past three fingers into their mouths. "As you can tell," the Finn continued as he watched Yuki-rin start gagging on her fingers, "the human body is not made of rubber; your muscles require a lot of conditioning in order for them to stretch past their initial limits. Even when you condition those muscles, you run the risk of permanently deforming them." He paused. "Take your fingers out of your mouths now."

Those who had been trying to stuff their fists into their mouths gratefully gave up their efforts.

"It's hard, isn't it? And yet it seems that a lot of dicks in fanfiction nowadays are roughly the thickness of a fist," Elisabeta added, grinning as the students winced. "And if that's not bad enough, picture trying to stuff that up your rear end. Even better, imagine two of them. Isn't your body going to tear?"

"_Owwwwww_," Megan moaned, a pained expression on her face.

"I'm sure that with a lot of conditioning someone might be able to pull it off. But the idea of a virgin going through such an ordeal… it's probably going to end in lots of pain." Tino nodded to Berwald, who changed the slide once more. "Doing it twice in five minutes is implausible."

"But hasn't there been a woman who had sex with like nine hundred and nineteen guys in one day?" Sara Parker demanded.

"That woman was also a porn star," Elisabeta pointed out sweetly. "She has enough experience and has pretty much conditioned her body to be in heat all the time. However, an ordinary person wouldn't be capable of such a feat, much less an ordinary couple. That porn star's… many partners… were all up for the job, pun not intended. A couple that has just had intercourse is usually a bit too tired to get aroused again that quickly."

"Unless they had Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder or something," Megan added with a smirk.

"I bet France has that," Emmanuella chipped in.

"Francis just doesn't know how to take 'no' for an answer," Elisabeta replied. "Shall we move on?"

Tino nodded. "Yes, but let's quickly point out that it is possible to sweat during sex – and to cry, too, if it's the first time and it hurts that badly – but your characters are not going to be sweating like a pair of marathon runners _post-coitus_. So it's not likely that the sheets will be drenched with sweat unless the two are going at it in an extremely hot and humid room."

"R'ght, m'v'ng 'n," Berwald insisted. "Th's sl'd' t'lks 'b't h'w r'p' d'sn't l'd t' l'v'e."

"Unless you have _Stockholm_ Syndrome," Tino added, glaring at Berwald. The Swede feigned innocence.

"D'nn' wh't y'r' t'lk'ng 'b't, d'r."

"I'm not your dear, or your wife, or your 'sweet little platter of reindeer steak'," Tino ground out. Several students snickered. "Besides, everyone knows the only reason why your women get pregnant at all is because of us Finnish men."

Berwald muttered something that sounded like, "sh't 'p, m' sw't l'ttl' pl'tt'r 'f r'nd'r st'k." Elisabeta snickered.

"Back on topic, lovebirds," the Hungarian chirped. "Why rape does _not_ lead to love and is therefore a very bad idea to start a romance. Who here has written a rape scene?"

Sakura raised her hand. Everyone else looked at each other uneasily.

"And… what pairing?" Tino asked hesitantly.

"RusLiet and FrUK!" the girl replied cheerily, causing some of the FrUK shippers to bang their heads against their desks. Repeatedly.

"And why did you write them?" Tino asked in a voice that clearly said 'answer correctly or I'll ask Alfred to give you the American Nuke Treatment™'. Sakura was unfazed by that, of course. Most fangirls seemed to be.

"Because it's true love!" she squealed, bouncing in her seat. For a moment, it seemed as if pink hearts had sprouted in the room, complete with birds singing.

Jennifer was pretty sure that was Against The Rules at IAHF. She shuddered.

Tino took one look at her before exchanging a dark glance with Berwald and Elisabeta. "And how would _you_ like it if Ivan or Francis did the same to you?" the Finn asked, in a voice that would have made Ivan proud.

Sakura blinked. "But it wouldn't be true love with me, because my heart is devoted to Iggy!" At that, Jennifer could almost hear the sparkles in the girl's voice. She cringed.

"Vanamoinen, Oxiensterna, and Magyarszag, you know what to do," Elisabeta muttered, and the three Mochis attacked Sakura, blobbing onto her and bouncing her out of the room. The students all watched Sakura leave, frowning in confusion.

"What are they going to _do_ to her?" Azure squeaked, looking quite pale in her seat.

"We were looking for some new scouts to find a little something in the Staff Section," Tino replied offhandedly. "Nothing to worry about. She might have to be resurrected, unless she decides to escape with the objective."

The students looked at each other nervously. "Moving on, Tino," Elisabeta suggested, and the Finn nodded.

"Rape," he said, "is one of the worst things that can happen to someone. It is traumatising – people who have been raped lose all sense of security and self-worth – and therefore should not be handled lightly. Those people who read your fanfiction out there – some of them may be rape victims themselves. If you are going to brush off _their_ trauma so that your pairing can get together in the most dramatic way possible…" he paused, looking away. "If you want to write a rape scene, you have to remember that your work might trigger readers. Handle it with discretion, handle the aftermath with discretion, and make sure to give proper warning labels so that those who have dealt with the event in real life can avoid it."

"There have been good fanfiction with rape scenes," Elisabeta pointed out. "It's possible. What we're pointing out is that victims of these sorts of events take a lot of time to cope with it. Some never heal."

"Have there been Nations who have been… you know?" Karin whispered.

"Historically, Belgium," Elisabeta replied quietly. "China, too. The Rape of Belgium at the start of World War One and the Rape of Nanking in World War Two are still… fresh in our minds…" she bit her lip and wiped her eyes. "Rape as love can occur in fantasies, but fantasies are just… they shouldn't mix with reality."

The students continued to watch Tino and Elisabeta struggle with their sudden attack of the sniffles. "So, we're not saying that rape should be avoided," Tino said after a moment. "It's acceptable in some situations. But handling the dynamic between rapist and victim as one of true love – and one where the victim ends up enjoying the act and falling in love as a consequence – is just thoughtless. Stockholm Syndrome, however," and here he shot a nasty glare at Berwald, "is a likely consequence of being forced to live with an abductor. But that doesn't come from being raped. That comes from the captor showing kindness to the captive. Can you see a difference?"

There were nods in the group. "Do we have to make it any clearer that rape does not equal love?" Elisabeta growled.

No one nodded at that. "P'rf'ct," Berwald grunted. "Cl'ssw'rk."

Tino seemed a lot happier at that. "Yes, yes, class work!" he exclaimed. "Write us a fanfic!"

The students gaped. Wait, did Tino just say…?

"Yes, write a romantic fanfiction that portrays sex in a realistic light," Elisabeta pitched in.

"However, you may not use canon characters," Tino added. "To drive the point home, all of you will be the stars of your own stories!"

The students stared at each other. Anita raised her hand. "Wait, so we have to write romance between ourselves and some other student?" she asked.

"Gives you a taste of your own medicine, right?" Elisabeta asked sweetly. "But yes. Use discretion shots if you're iffy about actually doing a scene. It doesn't have to be about you – it just can't be one of the teaching staff. If you find yourself pausing to wonder if you're capturing your classmate's personality right or if they could actually end up in a certain position, then you're on the right track."

"This assignment is due at the end of class. If not done by then, then you get to join Sakura with her little game of 'Spot the Very Dangerous Creature and Try to Kill It'." Tino smirked. "Go."

Still looking nervous and rather squicked, the students took out sheets of paper and started writing.


	17. Those Four Words

**Part XVII**

_The maiden with her hair as dark as midnight's wings_ (never minding the fact that midnight has no wings)_ looked up at him, dark chocolate eyes shining with desire._

"_Do you want me?" the man whispered huskily, his swept-back dark hair ruffled from their heated kisses before. She_ _nodded fervently. "Say it, Jennifer."_

"_I want you, Workbitch," the maiden replied throatily, pressing herself into his arms –_

"Oh Mein Gott." Gilbert Beilschmidt seemed to have found a new favourite fanfic. "Elisa, you are a _genius_. The awesome me has spoken, so you should feel flattered now."

"Cocky bastard," Elisabeta Héderváry grumbled, blushing bright pink nonetheless. "But it was actually Tino's idea."

"Well, Tino's a genius, too," Gilbert acquiesced, looking over at where Tino was trying to lean surreptitiously against Berwald. "Tino, just give it up and lean against him already. You, Lovino, and Arthur should form some sort of support group."

"It'd be like… Lovers in Denial Anonymous," Elisabeta cackled. Tino flushed bright red.

"Besides, do you guys have more of these?" Gilbert asked, waving the sheet of paper. "These are comic gold, I swear."

"We were going to pass them around at dinner and see which ones are the favourites," Tino admitted, crossing his arms and inching away from Berwald on the sofa (which, coincidentally, was an Ektorp sofa from IKEA done in Idemo blue).

"Any more of a student pairing him or herself with Workbitch?" Gilbert asked, grinning wider.

"Wait, what?" said secretary asked, poking his head into the room. "What are you reading, Gilbert? Please tell me that's not Alfred's diary."

"Speak of the devil," Elisabeta muttered as Workbitch entered the room and walked to where Gilbert was sitting.

"Australia still has Alfred's diary, doesn't he?" Gilbert asked, looking over at Berwald. The Swede shrugged.

"What is this?" Workbitch asked, pointing to the paper. He had been reading it, pale-faced, over the Prussian's shoulder. "Who wrote that?"

"Some chick named Kitty Smith," Elisabeta replied with a shrug. "But I dunno who she's pairing you with."

"Another student, I guess," Workbitch replied; his pale face had flooded with colour. Tino snickered.

"Jennifer Chang, I'm assuming? Quiet Asian girl with glasses?" The Finn grinned. "I've got her assignment in here somewhere. Think she wrote about you as well…" He rummaged around in the pile. "Here you go."

"H'v' f'n," Berwald offered helpfully, trying to sneak his arm around Tino without the other noticing.

"Poor bloke," Gilbert chortled as a red-faced Workbitch left the room. "Saddled with that god-awful name and now being fangirled."

"Well, it was only a matter of time before they found the loophole – no canon characters on the _teaching staff_," Tino replied, inching away even farther down the couch. "Poor Workbitch indeed."

* * *

"Y-you h-have a t-t-test today," Feliciano Vargas stuttered in Italian class on Monday, as if he was scared of his own test. "On… what was it about, fratello?" he turned to his brother, Lovino.

"You dumbass. It's about subject pronouns, gendered nouns, and conjugation." Lovino scoffed and hurled a tomato at Summer Elizabeth Smith. "Wake up, you –"

"No, fratello, we agreed that you're not going to curse at the students in class," Feliciano interrupted. "Okay, so we'll pass out the tests and you get the entire class period to do it."

"No cheating," added Lovino. "My mafia were getting rather bored lately with no targets to pick on. So if I catch you cheating, you get to be the victim of their next _vendetta_."

"They're really scary," Feliciano whispered as he passed out the tests.

This same scene was being repeated on the other side of the campus, in the Japanese classroom.

"Today is your test on the basics that we have covered in the past few months," Kiku Honda said quietly as his Mochis glared at Lucy in the front row. "You will have five minutes of study time before I hand out the tests. No cheating or you will meet my darker side." He cast a dark glare at his clone in a black uniform. Dark Kiku had appeared in the Staff Section yesterday, and was already petitioning for a torture chamber for torturing the students.

Dark Kiku looked back innocently and then put his feet on the teacher's desk. Kiku's hands clenched into fists, but other than that, he looked perfectly calm. "Kindly get your feet off the desk; that is disrespectful," he muttered to his clone.

"I don't need to listen to you," Dark Kiku replied arrogantly. "I am Imperial Japan, representing the Empire of the Rising Sun. I bow before none other than my Emperor."

Kiku sighed, turning away. "Ignore him, please. Now study, while I fetch the tests."

As soon as he left, the room broke into chaos as the students tried to figure out how to phrase questions and reviewed their _hiragana_ characters.

When Kiku returned with the tests, the students all collectively groaned and put their charts away. "I hope that was sufficient review time," Kiku said cheerily as he passed the tests out. "Remember the consequences of cheating. You have the rest of the period to do this test. Go."

The students groaned again and started writing.

* * *

"My brain hurts," Kriss complained after class. "What was the Japanese word for… like… China? I thought it was Chugoku… right?"

"Yeah, it is," Yuki-rin replied. "He just taught the Nation names last week; I swear this thing was a pop test! We didn't even get prior warning!"

"Oh, come on, we had an Italian test today," Shannon Price replied, walking over from the Italian Corridor. "Io non studio per l'esame… wait, that should be in past tense, and we haven't learnt past tense…"

Jennifer grinned. "Well, German class was awesome."

"That's because you have Prussia as your teacher," Merka pointed out. "I'm in French, because I said I wanted to study British English." She pouted; Jennifer snorted.

"So what did you learn?" she asked. "In French, I mean?"

"Francis taught us how to conjugate –ir verbs," Merka replied sullenly. "Like 'finir' and 'réussir'…"

"How did he teach it?" Jennifer wondered.

"With the 'Mexican Hat Dance' song. I kid you not." Merka grimaced as the others started giggling. "He used 'Old MacDonald' for the –er verbs. And the way he taught us 'avoir' reminded me of England's Demon Summoning Song."

Jennifer snickered. "When he covers the _passé composé_, tell me how he teaches the verbs that take 'être'."

"Yeah, if I remember it." Merka rolled her eyes. "But what about your awesome German class, then?"

"Well," Jennifer giggled, "we watched this strange movie in German class. It was a German film about Nazi Germany, but Gilbert added his own subtitles." She paused. "It was hilarious."

"Why?"

"He was playing _Where's Waldo_ at a meeting." Merka and Kriss snorted.

"Talking about Gilbert's parody of _Downfall_?" Karin piped up as she walked by. "Ninety minutes of Hitler yelling about seizing vital regions."

"And playing _Where's Waldo_, apparently," Megan pointed out.

"What was your favourite part? I liked the moment where he phoned the Angry German Kid," Jennifer sniggered.

"I liked the part where he stole Ludwig's wurst," Karin replied.

They walked to the cafeteria. Kriss was looking forward to the cooking class after lunch, because Kiku was going to teach them how to make sushi and shrimp tempura. However, the cafeteria doors were still closed when they reached it; so they settled for trying to get to the front of a crowd milling around the bulletin board outside.

"Skiing and snowboarding classes start Wednesday!" Roksana cheered. "Mm, Arthur and Kiku teaching together…"

"Don't forget Feli," Mitsuki Horenake pointed out.

"Yeah, well… Arthur and Kiku…" Roksana grinned dorkily.

"They're finishing the ski lift by Tuesday?" Jodie Smith demanded.

"Plot holes are convenient like that," Emmanuella pointed out, trying to dodge Akiko. The ninja student was suddenly doing somersaults and kicks mid-air; her eyes were wide and her body seemed to twitch into those positions. It was rather surreal to watch. "My God, Akiko," Emmanuella snapped, "you should get your Ninja Syndrome checked!"

"I can't help it! Aaugh, I'm sorry, Loki!" Akiko had just pegged the Shadow demon in the stomach. "And you too, Sakura!" She had accidentally done a backflip and headbutted the girl. "Ow, that fucking hurt! I'm so sorry!"

"You probably gave her brain damage!" Azure cried, directing that at both parties. Sakura couldn't respond, as she had been knocked out cold.

"What's taking them so long?" Jennifer demanded, turning away from the spectacle to stare at the cafeteria doors.

"Sauerkraut and bratwurst for lunch!" Karen DuLay cheered as she went by. "I bet Luddy's making sure it's all perfect… unless Arthur's in there! Oh no, what if they're fighting?" The Ludwig fangirl started pounding at the door. "LUDDY I'LL SAVE YOU! DON'T WORRY, MY GERMAN HUNK, I'M COMING!" Across the hallway, Kiri Olaveja (Karen's fellow Ludwig fangirl and rival, apparently) made the universal sign for 'cuckoo'.

The door suddenly slammed open to reveal a very angry German. "Who was pounding the door when I was polishing your damned silverware?" Ludwig Beilschmidt roared, brandishing a fork.

"Luddy, that's so nice of you!" Karen screamed, tackling the now-surprised (and slightly blinded) German. "I love you so much – AAUGH!" The students screamed as well when a metallic blur flew squarely into her back. It was a dagger; Karen collapsed.

"Those pesky students," Nataliya Arlovskaya sighed as she walked out of a nearby plothole and heaved the corpse off Ludwig, plucking her dagger from Karen's back as she did so. "You are unhurt, I hope?"

"Fine, just…" Ludwig shook his head. "You didn't need to _kill_ her."

"I've done the same for Brother's fangirls," Nataliya said coldly, glaring at Loki, who was still clutching her stomach. "This is no different. Unhindered, she would have molested you."

"She was already doing that," Ludwig pointed out, dusting imaginary dust from his clothes. "Let's get her to the hospital wing." Saying that, he stabbed the fork into Karen's arm, averted his eyes from her still-Bled-coloured hair, and dragged her off. Nataliya followed.

"Lunch is ready," the Belarusian added as they walked away with the corpse. "As Francis says, bon appétit."

"Now that's just mean," Carolina muttered as they entered the dining room.

* * *

"Another resurrection?" Florance Nightingail sighed as Karen's body was deposited onto a hospital bed. "Clara, do you have the papers?"

"Er, yes," Clara replied, grabbing a stack of papers and handing them to Ludwig. "Fill them out and get them filed with the Course Coordinator as soon as possible, please."

"Ja, I shall." Ludwig nodded and left the infirmary with Nataliya.

As he left, Florance strode down the aisle. "Takara? Takara, where are you?"

"She's over there, Florance," Mary Seacull said helpfully as she took Alexandria Russell's temperature. "Miss Russell, you don't have a fever. Go back to class."

"But I swear, I felt awful during Kiku's test…" Alexandria groaned.

"That might be test anxiety. If you've felt this before, perhaps you ought to talk to Dr. Froyd?" She pointed to a door leading to the school psychologist's office. "Although I think he's currently talking to Hapsburg Antonio… or trying to, since that family's inbred to the point where they all have Jay Leno chins and drool like bulldogs in summer."

Florance walked down to the end of the aisle to see the youngest nurse, Takara, staring out the window. "Child, stop daydreaming and fetch me some herbs from the conservatory," Florance snapped, causing the other nurse to look at her with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Wait, which ones?" Takara asked, almost tripping over her own feet in an attempt to walk away from the window.

Florance sighed. "We're trying to resurrect a student. I want the herbs that grow in Arthur's… magical garden." Arthur kept a variety of plants and herbs with supposed magical properties for his potions and spells; some were effective and others were only effective at biting people's fingers. "You know the one I'm talking about, right? The fan-created plant with the Bled-spotted leaves right next to the Kuswort."

"Yeah, I know," Takara said with a nod, grabbing her satchel. "I'll go get it, then!" And she went racing out the hospital wing, nearly colliding with Hélène Farchild as the other came in with cart of Bleeprin.

"Watch where you're going, Taytay!" Hélène called as Takara rushed off, yelling a string of apologies as she went.

"She's so clumsy," Mary Seacull sighed as Takara's thundering footsteps receded. The other nurses exchanged dark looks before carrying on with business.

Meanwhile, Takara darted down a few side corridors and flashed her pass into the Staff Section at the Mochis guarding the building. She entered, slowing her gait down to a walk and running her fingers through her unruly black hair. The Staff Section bustled with activity as Mochis hopped to and fro with their namesakes, followed by an occasional Fluffy Mint Bunny trying to get a nibble. She avoided Arthur's Unicorn (strangely, she was one of the few who could see it without eating Arthur's cooking – which apparently had been classified by the rest of the Nations back in October as a Protocol II Inhumane Weapon under the Geneva Conventions) and leapt over the abyssal crack that Alfred and Ivan had created last week, before dodging a couple of stray boulders from their current catapult contest (if modern weapons don't work, try medieval ones!) and ducking into the corridor that led to the Conservatory.

She then froze when she saw Mr. Hugh pass by the entrance to the corridor, evidently on his afternoon walk.

"Those two, will they ever cease this rivalry?" the Course Coordinator complained, before turning to see her. "Going into the Conservatory, Miss Takara? That's not the proper entrance right now. Haven't you heard?"

"Heard about what?" Takara asked, almost tripping again as she attempted to curtsy.

"There's a Mary Sue in the Staff Section. The one responsible for the Vambiolaria attack on Halloween."

Takara's face went pale. "I didn't know that," she muttered. Mr. Hugh chuckled.

"I'll show you the side entrance. Are you on a mission for dear Florance?" At that, Takara couldn't help but bristle at the way Mr. Hugh said the other nurse's name.

"Yes, _dear Florance_ sent me to fetch some herbs from Arthur's garden," she bit out, intoning Florance's name sarcastically. Florance this, Florance that. Just for being head nurse and a misspelled version of the most famous nurse in history…

"You don't seem very enthusiastic about it," Mr. Hugh noted as they walked away from the main entrance to the Conservatory. "Why not? Are you fetching Kuswort for her?"

"No, I have to get that Bled-spotted one." Mr. Hugh grimaced.

"The one that smells like cat faeces and tries to spit Bled paint in your face when you pick it?"

"The very same."

"My condolences." Mr. Hugh nodded to her. "Here's the side entrance." He pointed to what appeared to be the side of the Conservatory – but on closer inspection, Takara barely made out the outline of a glass door carved into it. "Good luck with… harvesting."

"Thank you." Takara paused for a moment, blushing horribly. "Er… Mr. Hugh?"

"Yes?" he asked, smiling.

"I was wondering… if… er… if you… if you were free on… Saturday evening…" she mumbled, feeling her blush worsen as she continued.

"Unfortunately, I have to attend dinner with Florance and then I have a meeting with Shinbun, Howard, Workbitch, Assbitch, and Janice." Mr. Hugh shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Takara replied, opening the door. "I'll… see you around."

And then she entered the Conservatory.

* * *

_Maybe it's that voice – calm and deep, with a distinct English accent._

_Maybe it's the hair – slicked back and dark, always neat and tidy._

_Maybe it's the eyes – enigmatic and hypnotising, when stared into for too long._

_I don't know what it is, but everything about him is different. When he talks to me, my heart runs a marathon within my chest. My knees tremble slightly, and I'm sure the heat in my cheeks could set the building on fire._

_Every bit of me longs for him; no matter how long we spend talking I can never get enough. If only I knew what he felt about me… if only we could…_

"Those four words," Workbitch muttered, setting down the piece of paper. "If only we could."

He put the assignment away, but as he did so, his gaze fell upon a vase of roses.


	18. Close Encounters of the Suvian Kind

**Notes:** Thanks to Mizu Takishima from CAPTALIA for letting me shamelessly steal her Mary Sue!

* * *

**Part XVIII**

When the students revived Sakura Crystal Kirkland, she spent the rest of lunch blabbering about her ordeals in the Staff Section.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh… it was awful!" the England fangirl cried, adjusting her glasses. "When I woke up, I was in this… like… jungle! And oh my gosh, there were Mochi bits all over me. I had a set of instructions next to me, and it said that there was a Mary Sue in that jungle thing and I had to kill her! With… I don't even know, my bare hands! I'm not athletic…" She pouted.

"What about the Mary Sue? Did you see her?" Carolina Brown demanded.

"Yeah, that's why I escaped. She was _this_ close!" And there, Sakura held her thumb and index finger about a centimetre apart, her hand trembling.

"She was molesting you?" Rachael Wilkison snickered.

"No, but she was way too close! So I was like 'GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING PREP, IGGY'S MY BITCH, OKAY?' and she was like 'OH NO YOU DIDN'T, YOU SKANK, IGGY'S MINE!' so I was like 'TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, WHOREFACE!' so we started fighting and…" she paused. "I got this scratch on my arm from her really long nails, wanna see?"

"Er, no," Franklin Livingston grumbled. "But tell us more about the 'Sue…"

The rest of the Nerd Group nodded, dragging Sakura to their table for interrogation.

"Okay," said Sakura as she sat down. "Her name's Alexandra Bonnefoy, but she goes by Haiti-chan."

"Haiti?" Tori Troutman demanded, casting a sidelong look at Franklin and Carolina.

"Yeah, Haiti. I was shocked, too, you know."

"Sure. Go on. What does she look like?"

"Well," began the England fangirl, "she's White."

Tori, who had been eating her sauerkraut, nearly spat it out. "_What_?" she squawked.

"You heard me. She represents Haiti, but she's White. With pink hair and a rainbow-coloured left eye."

The Nerd Group was speechless.

Sakura continued to speak, stabbing a wurst ferociously as she did so. "She also has cat ears and special powers that were apparently unlocked by the earthquake."

"Words can't begin to describe how wrong that is," Carolina declared.

"Who's her target?" Karin wondered.

"Arthur. Francis raised her, though. He apparently molested her." At that, the Nerd Group exchanged worried glances.

"And she's our sparkly Suvian terrorist?" Ryosuke Nakayama demanded incredulously.

"Yeah." Sakura popped part of a wurst into her mouth and grimaced.

* * *

Takara quickly located Arthur's magical herb garden in the jungle that the Staff called a 'conservatory'. She tiptoed towards it, looking about her warily.

A pink blur suddenly came rolling out of nowhere and collided with her, knocking the wind out of Takara's stomach. She fell backwards onto her backside, goggling up at the hyperactive grin – and the obviously Suvian persona that belonged to the grin – above her.

"Hiiii!" the Mary Sue squealed. "Niiiice to meet ya! Are you related to my one true love?"

"What?" Takara asked, wondering if she _did_ eat Arthur's cooking in the morning.

"Are you related to Iggy-chan, my one true love?" the Mary Sue asked, batting her ridiculously long eyelashes. "I'm Alexandra Bonnefoy, soon to be Alexandra Kirkland!"

Takara stared. "Er… no? And please get off me."

The Mary Sue clambered off her with a little pout. "Aw, but you have his sexy eyebrows and eyes! That's too bad; I thought you were like me or something! Did you see that guy who looks like Amerika-baka and Iggy-chan's kid? He's pretty cute, too."

"Er… no… I don't think so," Takara mumbled. "Unless you're talking about Mr. Hugh…"

"Dunno his name. But he's cute though!" Alexandra giggled like a squirrel on helium, her seriously mismatched eyes sparkling. "So, anyways, what's your name?"

Takara half-considered retorting 'Florance told me not to talk to Mary Sues', but instead she replied, "Takara."

"Last name?" Alexandra wondered, peering at the other from behind her pink pigtails. Her cat ears twitched.

"Er… I don't have one…" Takara admitted.

"That's horrible!" Alexandra squealed. "Not having a last name is like… you're an orphan that no one wants! So tragic!"

Takara raised both eyebrows, feeling slightly hurt. Alexandra pursed her lips and tapped her chin.

"Anyways," the cat-girl said after a moment. "Are you a Nation? Like me, I'm the personification of Haiti!"

Takara's eyebrows went higher. "Er… no, I'm just a nurse. In fact, I'm on an errand right now…" she started to get to her feet, opening her satchel and checking to make sure the tools inside weren't damaged.

"For who?" Alexandra asked.

"You ask a lot of questions," Takara noted.

"I'm curious, what can I say?" the Mary Sue giggled.

Takara sighed. There was something about Alexandra that made her want to spill her deepest secrets. Maybe it was that candid personality, maybe it was her harmless demeanour. As they talked, Takara couldn't help but wonder if Alexandra had been framed. "I'm getting herbs for Florance Nightingail, the head nurse."

"Is she, like, one of those mean stepsister-like people who make you do all the work while she steals your prince?" Alexandra asked, grinning knowingly. Takara blushed.

"How.. did you…?" she asked.

"Come on, you look like the sort!" Alexandra giggled. "So, who's the Prince Charming? If it's Iggy-chan, I'm gonna cry."

"No, it's… Mr. Hugh," Takara's blush grew worse. Why was she confessing to a Mary Sue, of all people? She hadn't the foggiest reason why.

"D'aww, and Florance is stealing him from you?"

"He doesn't even notice me, to be honest."

Alexandra leapt up and struck a pose. "I see!" she declared. "You're one of those adorable lurkers who's too shy to make a move but is also absolutely heartbroken that the hunk of your dreams is going out with some whiny bitch!" She beamed. "What you need, girl, is some confidence!"

"But –" Takara started to say, but Alexandra cut her off.

"Trust me, Taytay!" Alexandra giggled. "You've got to strut your stuff and make him see what he's missing!"

Takara was expecting the song 'Popular' to start playing any minute. "So… flirting?" she asked, as if she didn't quite understand the term.

"With confidence. Confidence that you're gonna make him fall in love with you!" Alexandra put her hands on her hips. "And I can totally help you with that!"

Takara had to admit, she was tempted. "But we rarely meet…"

"Details, schmetails." Alexandra leaned in conspiratorially. "In return for your assistance with a little problem of mine, I'll give you a phial of Aura of Smooth. That's all you need to get him to fall in love with you – better than one of those cheap Love Potions where everything goes wrong, I swear!"

"If, hypothetically, I agree, then what am I helping you with?" the nurse asked.

The Mary Sue laughed. "Oh, it's obvious. Help me escape this place, and I'll help you get your prince! Do we have a deal?"

Takara paused again. The temptation was really quite sore… and Alexandra seemed to want to help. Besides, if Alexandra had Aura of Smooth, she was probably using it on Takara right now to get her to agree. Based on what Florance had as an antidote…

The antidote! Takara made a mental note to destroy Florance's batch of antidote once she had the Aura. Couldn't have any sabotage by rival third parties, oh no.

"Anyone home?" Alexandra asked, startling Takara from her musing.

"Oh, yes," Takara nodded, extending her hand. "We have a deal."

They shook.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Florance demanded when Takara returned, drenched in Bled paint from the accursed spotted plant of Bled-dom.

"Ivan and Alfred were catapulting rocks just outside the conservatory," Takara replied, taking the leaves out of her satchel and depositing them onto the table. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Take all the time you need," Florance replied. "And get a turnip from the Staff Kitchen on your way."

Takara nodded, shuffling down a side corridor to the kitchen and grabbing a giant turnip. She sliced it into little bits before pureeing those pieces. Satisfied with her work, she went to the nurses' quarters.

First, a shower. Takara took half of the turnip puree with her into the shower; the rest would be for her clothes and equipment. Next, laundry. That was easy, considering that she only needed to add half of the amount of detergent suggested when removing Bled stains; the turnip took care of the rest. She shuffled back into her room to change into a clean uniform before combing and drying her hair. Her eyes kept flickering to the phial on her dresser.

Aura of Smooth was clear and odourless; she was supposed to dab it onto her skin in the morning, one drop per day. Slowly, the Aura would start to surround her; noticeable results usually occurred in a week.

In return, Takara had smuggled Alexandra out the side entrance of the conservatory; the Mary Sue had quickly located a plothole back to wherever she came from. Takara's conscience was protesting, but she mentally beat that little voice into submission.

"Takara?" the nurse turned to see Mary Seacull standing there. "You're needed back in the infirmary."

Takara nodded, pocketing the phial. No one could see it, or else it would incriminate her.

* * *

**Pirate Francis, Pirate Antonio, and Teutonic Knight Gilbert Return, Sueshocked**

_Two pirates and a little knight were discovered in the staff conservatory on Tuesday night by Revolutionary War Alfred F. Jones' rescue team. The pirates were Francis Bonnefois and Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and the Teutonic Knight was Gilbert Beilschmidt._

_The three friends were located in a grove of Frazier Firs in the northwest corner of the conservatory. They exhibited all the symptoms of 'Sue-induced shell shock, and it may be a while before they are restored to their normal state of mind. _

"_I'm hopeful that I can return them to sanity within a month or two," says Dr. Siegmund Froyd. "With humans, psychotherapy for these sorts of disorders might take years. However, this is only a mild case."_

_Sue-induced shell shock, or Sueshock, is a mild psychological disorder resulting from long-term subjugation by a Mary Sue. Symptoms include twitching, a sudden phobia of anything that has a connection to the Mary Sue, and a tendency to curl up in the foetal position and cry for hours on end. It has more connections to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder than Combat Stress Reaction (the modern term for shell shock), though._

"_Yeah, I think the people at FicPsych first coined the term thinking it would be funnier to say 'Sueshocked' instead of 'a victim of Post-Traumatic Suefic Disorder' or something," jokes Froyd. "And when you cut it down to that, Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio really do seem shocked by the Sue that they were with."_

_Sueshock can happen to both canon characters in a recently-PPC'd 'Suefic and original characters forced to read or watch the Suefic in question. Therapy for Sueshock is available at the Department of Fictional Psychology, PPC Headquarters._

"So they're back," Mr. Allen said, putting down the piece of paper.

"Yes, and they are all undergoing psychotherapy with Dr. Froyd," Shinbun-kun replied.

"What about the Mary Sue?" Mr. Allen wondered, crossing his arms on the desk and leaning forward.

Shinbun shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm not too sure how to break this to you, sir –" he began, but the door to the office slammed open and Revolutionary War Alfred stood there, eyes wide.

"The British are coming! The British are coming! The British are – oh, I'm sorry. The Mary Sue has escaped, sir!"

Mr. Allen stood up. "Excuse me?" he demanded.

"The Maaaaaaary Suuuuuue," Alfred repeated, drawing out the term slowly like a teacher trying to get a student to spell a word phonetically. "She's escaped."

"Don't tell me she just walked out the front door," Mr. Allen groaned.

"No, Kiku already checked the surveillance tapes," Alfred replied.

Mr. Allen had a sudden urge to bang his head against the wall. "These are the days when I wish we had a Sherlock Holmes in the Staff," he mumbled.

* * *

On Wednesday afternoon, several students gathered around the bottom of the ski lift going up to the top of Evrest, carrying their skis and snowboards. Over at the frozen lake, Alfred's team was doing a scrimmage game. The first hockey game was going to be on Saturday evening; it would be Alfred versus Ivan, with Matthew sitting out. Already Kitty had started a betting pool about the outcomes.

"We're not going to go to the top until we master the basics, all right?" Arthur Kirkland said grumpily. He was dressed in a red jacket with green pants, and looking three times as grumpy as usual. His Mochis perched on his shoulders, glaring at the students. Next to him, Kiku Honda and Feliciano Vargas stood around awkwardly. "All right, let's start with the ski designs. I don't think any of us have those old alpine skis... in fact, I told Toris not to supply you lot with them."

"Why not?" Merka wondered, looking about to jump him any minute.

"It's harder to steer. See these skis? They're called shaped skis. They're shorter than the old ones, which means less entanglement when you accidentally fall on your arse, and easier turning when you don't. There's a greater edge to these skis, so it's easier to turn without skidding. The shaped ski's turning capabilities are the main reason why we use them. They're easier to deal with." Arthur frowned slightly. "All right. Put your skis side by side. If we were to divide the ski into two parts based on the binding, then the longer part should be facing the inside of this circle. That part's the tip. The shorter part is the tail. The tip must always face up, or else you'll be digging snow. When you're skiing, the tails must never cross. _Never_. You got that?"

The students nodded.

Kiku piped up. "All right, now we'll teach you how to put on your skis. Watch." He put his boot into the binding and stomped down. "You have to line both the heel and toe of your boots to the binding, or else the skis will slip off. You'll know when you're wearing the skis properly if you hear a click. That's the back part of the binding snapping into place. If it snaps before your foot is properly placed, just apply pressure onto the back to loosen it."

"You have to stomp really hard," Feliciano added.

"Just pretend that you're stomping on your enemy's head," Arthur cut in.

"That's mean, Arthur," Feliciano whimpered. Several girls giggled. "Anyways, just put on your left ski and try walking around with it."

Everyone complied. "It feels like my foot's grown ten sizes bigger," Kriss complained as she stomped around with her left ski, nearly whacking Luna as she went and relocating bits of snow everywhere.

"You don't need to lift your skis that high," Kiku pointed out. "It'll be tiring if you do." He then turned to the others. "All right, put on the right ski and try to walk around without slipping. We're on relatively flat ground, so it should be okay."

A few feet away, Francis was instructing the snowboarders. "Everyone heard what I just said on how to tell the difference between the tip and the tail of a snowboard, oui?" His students nodded. "Parfait. Everyone, place your snowboards back up, with the heel of the bindings towards you. Let's fasten the front foot – the foot that's closest to the tip. You want to fasten the straps snugly, not tightly."

The students started to do so, fastening their ankle and toe straps quickly. "Now what?" Emmanuella demanded.

"Try to walk around with the board fastened to get yourself used to it."

Naturally, chaos ensued.

However, by the time dinnertime came around, the students were starting to take to the lifts. "Gah, my ass is cold," Merka complained to Kriss as they took a seat on the lift.

"I'm not warming it up for you," Kriss retorted, smirking slightly. "Damn, I don't know if I can handle going down this slope, even if it's considered easy..."

Behind them, one of the students who was scared of heights screamed and nearly fell out of her lift. "It's a bit unsettling having no lap bar on these things," Merka mumbled, gripping the arm of the chair with her gloves. The lift ascended almost to the top of the trees, and far below Ivan crashed into the Baltic brothers' snowman on a toboggan.

They reached the top and quickly skied out to avoid being clobbered over the head by the chair. Neira, in the seat behind them, wasn't as fortunate.

"Ouch, that's got to hurt," Kriss mumbled as Arthur hopped out of the third chair (much to Kriss's delight, he had been sitting with Kiku) and grabbed Neira's arm, dragging her out of the way before she was clobbered again.

"I thought we told you to get out of the lift as soon as possible," the Briton snapped as Feliciano disembarked as well.

"I'm sorry; it was going too fast," Neira mumbled.

"Don't do it again, or I'll leave you to the mercy of the chairs. Now get up."

Once all the ski students had reached the top (Francis and his riders were next and scheduled to head down the other side of the hill), Arthur quickly made sure that the coast was clear. "All right, let's practise going down this slope. Remember, you want to ski almost perpendicular to the side of the mountain. Exactly perpendicular means you're getting nowhere. Exactly parallel means you'll be going at a horrendously fast pace. If you saw Ivan crashing into that snowman and nearly skidding onto the lake, then you saw just how fast it gets here. We'll take one run down as a group before class is dismissed for dinner. We clear on that?"

The students nodded. Arthur sighed and grabbed his poles (he, Feliciano, and Kiku were the only ones with them, much to the students' disappointment). "I'm going first then. Kiku, ski in the middle to make sure the students aren't losing body parts. Feliciano, bring up the rear."

"Yes, sir!" Feliciano replied, his eyes closed. Arthur pushed off, carving a trail down the side of the mountain.

Kriss and Merka looked at each other disappointedly. "Damn, I was hoping that we got to hold his hand while we went down," Merka mumbled. Kriss nodded, grinning dorkily.

They all went down with a few tumbles, in the end.

* * *

"So, how was skiing?" Jennifer asked with a grin at dinner, ducking to avoid a piece of schupfnudel whizzing over her head. The noodle hit Eva Danielson; she quickly hurled a handful back at the people at the Europe table.

"RussPruss for the win!" someone (it sounded like Megan) screamed. That was quickly countered with screams of 'Germancest! Germancest!' from the Europe table.

"These noodles look like gnocchi, just saying," Mitsuki Horenake pointed out innocently.

"Did you know," Franklin Livingston said as he walked by, "that in Baden-Württemberg these noodles are called 'boys' penises'?"

"What?" Sara Parker demanded, perking up slightly.

"Yes, they're called bubespitzle there," Franklin replied. Sara cackled.

"I always knew Luddy was a secret perv, I knew it!"

The door to the cafeteria opened and Karen DuLay entered. "How was resurrection?" Ema Skye called from the South American table.

"It was strange," Karen replied. "Wait, so you guys are eating German food and you didn't invite me?"

"Well, technically it's Prussian food for tonight," Jennifer pointed out as Karen walked past, already splattered with noodles.

"And the pairings?"

"RussPruss versus Germancest."

"And what was that about eating penises?"

"These noodles are called 'boys' penises' in certain parts of Germany." Karen giggled at that and took a seat at the Europe table. Jennifer turned to Kriss and Merka. "Anyways, how was skiing?"

"Fun, but now I think my ass froze off," Merka replied solemnly. "What did you do?"

"I slept." Pause. "In my own room, you sicko."

"He could have been in your room," Kriss pointed out innocently.

"Psh, as if."

"Oh, come on, didn't he give you the roses?" Merka demanded.

"Those were _camellias_, Merka," Kriss snapped. "Even though I have no idea why they're growing at this time –"

"Conservatory," Jennifer replied shortly. "It's a jungle in there."

"But nothing's blooming."

"They probably fertilise the plants with plot holes," Jennifer deadpanned. Merka snickered.

"Anyways, they were pretty, weren't they? All red, white, and pink." Merka looked wistful. "Do you know what they mean?"

Jennifer shook her head, even though she knew perfectly well what they meant. There had been a card with them.

_Red camellias symbolise the flame that burns in my heart for you. Pink camellias symbolise the longing that I can't suppress. White camellias symbolise your adorable demeanour._

_Keep these flowers to your heart and think of me._

–_W.B._


	19. Hockey Rage and Evil Clones

**Notes:** For all of you Workbitch/Jennifer fans, **ScoutingForGuys** has written an angsty one-shot for them. It's called "The Wilting Camellias". Go read it. (And before you ask, it's not spoilerish.)

* * *

**Part XIX**

"Miss Chang, wake up!"

Jennifer bolted upright, eyes wide. Elisabeta glared at her from the podium.

"That's the third time you've fallen asleep in here. Maybe you need to catch up on your sleep? We can arrange some time in Auchwits for you so you can doze off when you're not cleaning Mochi bits."

"I-I-I'll pass, thanks," Jennifer mumbled, propping her chin on one hand. Why did Elisabeta always catch _her _sleeping in class? She could see Hotaru napping on the other side of the classroom.

"All right, then. Let's revisit how to identify the countries of Asia, all right? Start from the right side. There's Japan, shaped like a J. Now here's South Korea…"

Jennifer tuned Elisabeta out in order to relive last night. She, Megan, Kriss, and Merka had spent all night having a snowball fight while everyone else was sleeping, and then they snuck into the kitchens and stole all the hot chocolate.

Granted, Eevahn and chogoku caught them and chased them all the way back to the dormitories, but it was still fun. Now she was paying the price, it seemed.

"And see the tie-shape here? That's Thailand. Laos is right there, shaped like a mouse…"

Megan, in the seat next to her, wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to her. Jennifer looked at the message.

_Hey, you're tired, too, aren't you?_

Jennifer rolled her eyes and wrote, '_Yes, and it's all your fault_' right underneath that.

_Well, it was fun while it lasted. Say, are you going to talk to W.B. any time soon?_

_You read the card?_ Jennifer drew a frowny face. _That was my card!_

_Well, derp._ Megan giggled. _It was cute, though._

_Shut up!_

"Miss Chang and Miss Megan, what could possibly be so interesting?" Elisabeta asked from the podium. "I'm sure you won't mind sharing it with the rest of us."

Jennifer flushed scarlet; Megan snickered.

* * *

"Next week," Alfred F. Jones declared in the student cafeteria at lunch, "I am going to host a totally heroic Thanksgiving party. You're all invited; go to the Platonic Love classroom at dinnertime!"

There were cheers from the American students. "Another day for getting fat, Alfred," sighed Ivan. "And you historically gave thanks to the Native Americans by driving them off their lands and killing them."

"Shut up, Ivan," Alfred snapped. "You're just jealous that you're not invited." In an amazing show of maturity, he stuck his tongue out at Ivan.

And in another amazing show of maturity, Ivan stuck his tongue out as well.

Jennifer raised both eyebrows and turned back to eat her kimchi – although admittedly she detested the stuff and wished it wasn't so sour – with a slight grimace. "You guys going?" she asked, directing the question at everyone at the North American table.

"Well, durr," Merka replied. "It's patriotic!"

"And since it's technically the English pilgrims who feasted with the Native Americans, I think it counts as USUK, doesn't it?" Eva Danielson pointed out.

The USUKers sniggered appreciatively at that. "Say, what did you think of the Platonic Love class yesterday?" Alexandria Russell wondered aloud. "Were they friendlier to each other?"

"Looked like it," Jennifer muttered. "I suppose Alfred finally stopped cold-shouldering him."

"Wonder why he did it in the first place," Celeste said, stabbing at her kimchi. "I mean, Alfred was mad at Ivan and then he got mad at Arthur…"

"Was it because Ivan said that… thing about what Arthur said?" Hotaru wondered. She still looked half-asleep.

"Well, I hope Arthur found out." Jennifer pushed away her platter of kimchi. "First sauerkraut. Now this. I think I hate pickled vegetables now."

* * *

Mr. Allen looked at the manila folder. "Information on your clone?" he asked, looking up at Eledhwen Elerossiel.

She nodded. "Yes, here are her files from the Factory's database – all of her genetic information, proof that she was cloned from me – and some background information on how she became the leader of one of the League's Factories."

Mr. Allen was already skimming through the dossier. "She took power through a coup d'état?" he demanded, frowning. "That's… odd. I thought she was your 'brainless' clone."

"She grew some brains in my absence, it seems," Eledhwen remarked acidly. Mr. Allen snickered.

"And this information is important to our current situation because…" he paused, squinting at one of the papers. "She's planning an invasion?"

Eledhwen frowned. "Yes, I believe she was the one who started the arms race back in September. All of the Factories with an excess of Hetalia Mary Sues will eventually use them, and my clone is trying to convince them to use the Sues to invade IAHF."

"And why us?"

"Think about it, Allen." The _elleth_ looked grave. "You are the Course Coordinator at a fledgling Official Fanfiction University. The best time to attack an organisation like that is in their first year, when the Staff is just starting to get used to the situation. Overrunning IAHF with Mary Sues means a political victory for my clone, who wants to usurp the current Leader of the League of Mary Sue Factories."

"I didn't know Mary Sues had politics," Mr. Allen remarked dryly.

"I was not aware, either, but the documents prove us wrong." Eledhwen looked away. "Look, I believe that Mary Sue who planted the Glitter bomb on Halloween is connected to my clone in some way. She's probably a scout or something. This is why that investigation is crucial to your school's safety. You may have a traitor in your midst."

Mr. Allen nodded. "I understand."

"Make haste, then, and solve the mystery before more tragedies occur. I have to leave now. _Navaer_." She pulled up a portal and disappeared, leaving Mr. Allen holding the file.

"Artur," he said, and the English Mochi bounced up to the desk. "Bring me Shinbun-kun. We have some documents to discuss."

Artur bounced out of the room.

* * *

Saturday evening brought Jennifer and pretty much everyone else in the school down to the lake for the first hockey game of the season. Bleachers had been set up, Kitty Smith was taking last-minute bets, and excitement permeated the air.

"TEAM IVAN! IVAN! IVAN!" Nataliya was leading the chant for the Ivan supporters.

"COME ON, ALFRED; MAKE YOUR BIG BROTHER PROUD!" Arthur hollered. "GO KICK SOME RUSSIAN ARSE!" The USUK fangirls predictably cheered.

"KOLKOLKOLKOLKOLKOLKOL!" the Ivan supporters retorted.

"HEROHEROHEROHEROHERO!" the Alfred supporters replied. Jennifer put her hands over her ears as she sat down – the cheers were already deafening, but she was very thankful for the lack of vuvuzelas.

"And here they come, the teams coached by Ivan Braginski and Alfred F. Jones!" Sally Cruz was apparently doing commentary for this match; she was sitting with the staff members and yelling into the Bled-coloured megaphone. "Here comes Team Ivan – Mike Hawk, Alexandra Reynolds, Kiri Olaveja, sierra akoti, Loki Shadow Reave, Jodie Smith, Anita Khok, Mitsuki Horenake, and Sakura Crystal Kirkland!" The Ivan side of the bleachers went wild; the Alfred side booed. "And here's Team Alfred – Luna Fernández Correa, Karin Guarez, Lucia Verdas, Taylor Drews-Garcia, Emmanuella Escatara, Hotaru-chan, Shelby T. White, Yuki-rin Øxenstierna, and Merka Breigher!" Cheers erupted from Alfred's side; boos came from Ivan's.

The players got into position. Yao Wang, who was referee, skated out to the centre with a cookie. He blew the whistle and dropped the cookie, signalling the start of the game.

"Jodie Smith of Team Ivan takes the puck! Smith passes – oh, intercepted by Karin Guarez! Guarez is advancing with the puck, closely followed by Horenake – ouch, that's got to hurt. Horenake gets the puck and passes to Olaveja. Olaveja passes to Hawk – look at him go! Hawk is soaring down the rink, pun not intended, and shoots – blocked by Correa!"

The Alfred side of the rink went wild. Luna took the cookie and passed it to Yuki-rin, who passed to Merka.

"And now Breigher of Team Alfred is streaking down the rink with the puck. Ooh, careful! Nearly lost it to Khok there! Breigher passes to Escantara; Escantara makes a shot – saved by Reynolds! Reynolds passes to akoti, look at her go. She's hurtling down the rink like that Canadian hockey player, whatshisface –"

"MAURICE RICHARD!" Matthew yelled into the megaphone.

"Yeah, him. Anyways, akoti shoots – and scores! 1-0, Ivan's favour!"

The Ivan side of the rink cheered.

* * *

"Florance," Mr. Hugh said kindly as he met the head nurse at the hospital wing. "Shall we?"

Florance Nightingail nodded, taking Mr. Hugh's arm. "Where are we going?"

"Just… my office. I'm sorry about the… er…" he chuckled. "Informality."

"That's fine. You wanted to discuss business anyways, didn't you?"

They entered the office, where a table for two had been set up. "Francis took the opportunity to make us escargot with a garlic and cream sauce," Mr. Hugh said cheerily as he pulled out a chair for her.

"Sounds interesting," she replied, looking amused as he pushed her chair in for her as well.

"I had hoped as much." Mr. Hugh smiled at her as he took his seat.

They began to eat in relative silence. After a moment, Florance looked up at him. "So, business?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes. The documents. Er, how much antidote to Aura of Smooth do you have?"

"Several bottles," she replied. "Is there another… bomb?"

"No, it may be worse. I need an assessment of the hospital wing's supplies, in case we… fall under attack."

"Attack!" Florance echoed. "And why would there be an attack?"

Mr. Hugh got up and grabbed the folder on his desk, handing it to her. "See for yourself," he replied.

"Lilith Wydenbrooke," Florance mumbled, reading the first paper in the folder. "Manager of Happily Ever After Ltd., a prominent member of the League of Mary Sue Factories." She looked up. "I don't understand. What does she have to do with us?"

"She's the one behind the arms race that led to the Glitter bomb," Mr. Hugh explained. "My informant also tells me that she's planning a full-fledged attack on this school sometime in the future."

"Near future?" Florance asked.

"I hope not."

"Well, I can run the supply check for you later tonight and give you the results tomorrow. Would that be all right?"

"Give me the results as soon as you're done," Mr. Hugh replied. "I want to get a good idea of our situation here. My informant says it's not likely that Lilith will attack until she develops a true Vambiolaria bomb – one that works like a nuclear warhead instead of a Glitter bomb – but I think we need to assess the situation before it's too late."

Florance raised both eyebrows. "I… see," she said after a moment. "Well, here's to hoping that she doesn't figure it out." She raised her glass of wine.

"I'll drink to that," Mr. Hugh concurred, raising his glass as well.

* * *

"White of Team Alfred has the puck," Sally Cruz yelled as the game wore on. "The score's 2-2, folks, and the timer's ticking to the end of the second period! White shoots – blocked by Reynolds! Reynolds passes to Khok, Khok passes to Olaveja. Ouch, that's got to hurt! Well, Verdas has the puck now. Verdas is streaking up the rink – oof, that was a nasty fall. Hawk gets the puck; there he goes! Hawk shoots – saved by Correa!"

"What's the score?" someone asked, and Jennifer turned to see Workbitch, who was looking rather exhausted. "Sorry, I was helping Sealand with customs. I'll have to leave soon, though; I've got a meeting with Mr. Hugh."

Jennifer blushed. "What for?" she wondered aloud.

"Confidential matters," he replied enigmatically. "I've only got…" he checked his pocket watch, "ten minutes."

"Well, the score's tied at two," Jennifer said, shrugging, "and the cheering is deafening."

"I'd noticed as much," he remarked wryly.

They sat and watched Loki score another point for Team Ivan. Then Emmanuella gored the side of Anita's head, earning Team Ivan a penalty. Sakura replaced Anita for the penalty, because the other girl had to be rushed to the hospital wing with a huge gash in the side of her head.

Emmanuella had to sit out for a few minutes as Sakura scored, ending the penalty.

"Team Ivan in the lead, 4-2! Come on, Alfred, let's go! Here comes Guarez with the puck – oh! Good shot, Guarez! 4-3, one more to go! We're going into the last ten minutes of this period, folks. There goes akoti with the puck again. She passes to Olaveja, who passes to Reave – intercepted by Escatara! Escatara's going up the rink, look at her go! Escatara passes to White – ouch, checked by Horenake! Kirkland gets the puck, Kirkland passes – intercepted by Breigher! Breigher shoots – she scores!"

Workbitch looked at his watch. "Oh, I think I need to leave now," he said, standing up.

"I'll go with you," Jennifer offered.

"No, that's not necessary." He leaned down and kissed her cheek; she blushed even harder at that. "Enjoy yourself."

And with that, he left.

* * *

"Two minutes late, Workbitch," Mr. Hugh reprimanded. "What were you doing?"

"I was watching the hockey game, sorry." Workbitch took his seat. "How was dinner with Florance?"

"It could have been worse," Mr. Hugh replied enigmatically. "Are we all here?"

"Everyone except Assbitch, I'm afraid. He came down with the flu," Shinbun reported.

"Hm, I was wondering why he wasn't here." Mr. Hugh coughed and nodded. "Right, I hope you know why I called this meeting? Picardy, put the camera away."

Picardy, a man with brown hair and cat ears, pouted but stashed his camera away.

"Well, the original agenda centred on the Halloween bombings, but now we've got to talk about the investigation, right?" Howard asked, winking at Workbitch from across the table. The secretary resolutely hid his face behind his notepad. "And before we get into the serious stuff, I would like to ask my grandson why he hasn't made a move yet."

The others guffawed. "I don't know if she…" Workbitch started to say, but he was quickly drowned out by his colleagues.

"Bullshit, sir!" Shinbun declared. "You read the assignment, didn't you?"

"That could be forced!" Pause. "You're a snoop, you know that, Shinbun?"

"I was curious! You used to sit with us at dinner, and now you're spending all of your time in your room. Just ask her out and get the damn thing over with!"

"We are not going to spend this entire meeting bickering about my secretary's sordid love life," Mr. Hugh snapped. "Everyone, concentrate on the damn agenda."

"Let me guess, Work's infatuation began with the Vambiolaria bomb, didn't it?" Janice, a girl with blond hair (and a tendency to turn into a white blob) demanded. "I mean, I heard rumours…"

"The rumour mill distorts the truth," Shinbun declared, puffing out his chest.

"And you distort it even more," Howard muttered, causing Shinbun to whack him with a copy of the _Bled Chronicles_.

Mr. Hugh groaned. "Can we talk about the investigation?" he demanded. "At this rate, we'll get even less things accomplished than the Nations!" That got everyone quiet. "Thank you. The investigation,_ please_."

"The Bled Pinjas are already gathering evidence," Shinbun replied quickly. "They say that, based on the tracks through some of the muddier parts of the conservatory, the Mary Sue is likely to have escaped out the side entrance."

"That entrance is hard to detect from the inside," Howard added. "Unless a Staff member who knew about the entrance pointed it out to her, I don't think she would have found it."

"She spent nearly a month in there, anyways," Janice pointed out. "If she couldn't figure it out in that amount of time, I don't think she'll – mmpf!" She had suddenly turned into a blob. "Mmpf, mpf!"

"That's not helpful, Janice," Picardy taunted. "But I think what she means is that the Sue probably got Staff assistance to escape."

"Well, we can put that theory on the table," Mr. Hugh agreed. "We'll have to question the Staff, then." He paused. "Unless it's one of you?"

No one answered. Granted, no one needed to answer, because Florance Nightingail suddenly burst into the room, pale-faced and trembling.

"Mr. Hugh," she gasped, clutching the doorframe for support. "The antidote to Aura of Smooth…"

"Yes?" Mr. Hugh wondered, already dreading the worst.

"It's been destroyed."


	20. I Be 'Enry th' Eighth, I Be

**Notes: **In light of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan and the natural disasters happening all around the Pacific Rim (floods and earthquakes in Australia and New Zealand, tsunamis in the Philippines, China, Taiwan, U.S. West Coast, etc…), I encourage reviewers to donate to the Red Cross and bid for me in the **help_japan** auction on LJ (I'm **lily_winterwood** there). If you are broke, fold a paper crane and post it to CAPTALIA. That being said, in accordance with the Japanese Hetalia fandom's wishes I will try to limit any further mention of the earthquake in my Hetalia works. I'm keeping what I already have, but I'm not going to do any more until all of this is over.

In other news, I finally watched the Hetalia movie! Ideas, I have them…

* * *

**Part XX**

"Aha! We won! Suck on that!"

The members of Ivan's team were extraordinarily smug – in fact, they had been extraordinarily smug since they won their hockey game against Alfred's team by one point. Five to four – Alfred was blaming Yao for his team losing, of course.

Not that Yao cared, since everyone knew that Alfred owed him big-time. Hey, there had to be a reason why Yao always attacked first, right?

The Alfred team was looking despondent, as expected. That might be partly because Alfred was pressuring them even more at practice, insisting that they had to win the next match against Matthew's team in a few weeks. Likewise, Matthew kept his players out well past midnight, causing several of those students to fall asleep in class the day after. Azure had been caught sleeping in Canon 101; she was bounced off to Auchwits while asleep.

But between Alfred and Ivan themselves, the outcome of the game only served to worsen relations between them. For the entire week leading up to Thanksgiving, the entire school nearly froze over as Ivan and Alfred threw snowballs at each other daily. Quickly, the hallways became clogged with snow and snow shovels became the latest commodity on the black market.

Jennifer woke up on Wednesday morning dreading History class. The classroom was probably going to be stuffed with snow and she hadn't finished her essay on Martin Luther and his Ninety-Five Theses. Groaning to herself, she pulled out the essay and started writing.

"You didn't finish that, either?" Megan asked from the other bed. Once again, Lucia was sleeping in a tub of water next to the alien girl.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and nodded. "Er, yeah," she replied, crossing out her previous sentence.

"I was up until one trying to do it, and then I was like, 'fuck this shit'. So yeah. Think you can pilfer Karin's essay or something?"

"Tch, none of the Nerds ever offer their papers for copying." Jennifer rolled her eyes again. She looked at the camellias on her bedside drawer, blushing slightly.

"That sucks, right? Well, maybe Merka finished hers." Megan prodded the sleeping mermaid with her foot. "Wakey, wakey, Luchie-poo!"

"_Luchie-poo_?" Jennifer echoed, not sure whether to laugh or throw up. She flung down her essay and got out of bed, slipping on a set of boot slippers (what could she say, she had a thing for boots) and padding down the hall to the bathroom.

When she got back with her hair combed and teeth brushed, Megan and Lucia had created a fort with the bed sheets and… Jennifer groaned, throwing a pillow at a distinctly Megan-shaped bulge in the sheets. "Tone it down before you wake up the rest of the floor," she snapped, stomping over to the dresser to pick out her clothes.

Megan poked her head out from the blanket pile. "Aw, come on, bro, we're just trolling the people next door!"

"By having a 'let's see who can make the most obnoxious sex noises' contest? You're lucky Alfred and Ivan didn't hear about this sort of contest. We'd never get any sleep."

"And those RusAmerica shippers will be running around trying to set up cameras," Lucia giggled, ticking Megan's sides. Facing the mirror, Jennifer rolled her eyes for the third time at them and pulled off her nightshirt.

"Nice rack," Megan giggled. Jennifer crossed her arms across her chest.

"Shut up. I'm barely an A-cup. And stop looking, you pervert. You've got your own naked girlfriend to molest."

"You know," Lucia added, "we should take pictures and send them to –"

"SHUT UP!" Jennifer snapped, blushing bright red at that as she pulled on a t-shirt that read 'I Lie Back and Think of England' across the chest.

"Oh come off it, stop being so modest," Megan pouted. "No wonder I haven't been woken up in the middle of the night by _you_…"

Jennifer pulled on her jeans. "I don't want to sleep with him, damn it!" she growled.

"Denial is a river in Egypt, darling," Lucia pointed out.

Jennifer shook her head as she pulled on a thick jacket and a scarf. "You two," she sighed. "Just… see you later." In a huff, she stormed out of the room.

She realised that she forgot her essay when she was halfway to the cafeteria.

* * *

"Today, Pirate Arthur's doing a guest lecture on Henry the Eighth and the English Reformation," Ivan said in History class. Jennifer had finished her Martin Luther essay; her grade expectations were low since she had bullshitteded about ninety-five percent of it. "Act rudely during his lecture, and you get to receive the Anne Boleyn treatment."

Everyone who knew who Anne Boleyn was shivered in his or her seat. Smiling widely, Ivan took a seat at his desk and nodded at the door.

Pirate Arthur strode in, causing the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles to swoon and cheer. Jennifer remembered their last meeting, which had started with a terrible rendition of "God Save the Queen" and ended in a crumpet fight over which version of Arthur was the sexiest. Now everyone seemed to agree that Pirate Arthur was looking particularly majestic this morning.

Well, they had a tendency to confuse 'murderous' for 'majestic', so moving on…

"'Ello there, ye smarmy lil' landlubbers," Pirate Arthur drawled. "We be learnin' 'bout th' English Ref'mation today. Tha's all that stuff 'bout 'Enry th' Eighth and 'is six wi'es, and then some more stuff 'bout Elizabeth th' Firs'." His eyes got a little misty at the mention of Elizabeth, and he looked away, coughing slightly. "All righ' now, what d'ye know 'bout 'Enry th' Eighth's wi'es?"

Karin Guarez raised her hand. "Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived!" she answered cheerfully.

"Tha' works. Let's talk 'bout th' firs' two wives, aye? The firs' wife's name was Catherine o' Aragon. She was technically married t' 'Enry's older brother, Arthur –"

"You?" some people asked.

"Dunno 'bout tha'; I'd be dead if I was, aye?" Arthur shrugged. "Arthur died twenty weeks aft' marryin' Catherine, so 'Enry th' Seventh got a dispensation from th' Pope so tha' 'is younger son could marry Catherine."

"But when Henry wanted to divorce Catherine he ignored the dispensation, didn't he?" Carolina Brown asked.

"Actually, 'e tried to say that th' marriage b'tween Catherine an' Arthur was consumna'td," Pirate Arthur replied. "At th's time, 'Enry wanted t' marry Anne Boleyn, who support'd th' Prot'stant Reformers on th' Cont'nent. So when th' Pope rejected 'is appeals to divorce Catherine, 'Enry broke away from th' Cath'lic Church an' started 'is own."

"I wouldn't really know," Ivan interjected, "since I'm Orthodox… but what's the difference?"

"Th' Anglican Church sees th' King o' Queen as th' 'ead. Th' Cath'lic Church recognises th' Pope as th' 'ead."

"Oh, I see." Ivan gave him a 'you nutters are nuttier than squirrel poo' look.

"But when Anne didn' give 'Enry th' son 'e wanted, 'e 'ad 'er executed."

"That's a bit harsh," Hotaru whimpered.

"She also wasn' willin' t' be subordinate t' 'im," Arthur replied. "Ol' 'Enry didn' like 'er meddlin' in 'is affairs, an' 'er temper was awf'l." And then he went on to talk about the child that Anne _did _bear with Henry – Princess Elizabeth.

Jennifer found herself listening to him only for his voice as the lecture wore on. Pirate Arthur didn't seem to be a very effective teacher, but he kept most people attentive because of his voice. Ivan was busy writing something, not even noticing the drowsy students. So Jennifer thought that closing her eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt –

"Oi! Lass in th' green shirt tha' says 'I Lie Back an' Think o' England'! Pay attention or I'll send ye to Davy Jones's Locker!"

* * *

"You really need to get something to keep yourself awake," Merka sighed at lunch later. Skiing lessons had been cancelled this afternoon (for no apparent reason) and Matthew had scheduled the lake for his team in the time slot that Alfred usually used (being confused for the American had its perks, after all). Jennifer groaned and rested her head on the table.

"Yeah, sure, get me some caffeine pills off the black market or something."

"No, what you need is coffee! It's stronger than tea," Merka replied, grinning.

"But more bitter, too," Kriss pointed out.

"There's something called sugar, Kriss," Merka retorted, sticking out her tongue at her roommate. Little did they know that Kitty had started a betting pool for them and people were already placing their bets. In fact, Kitty had pretty much started bets for just about every piece of gossip at IAHF.

"Did you hear?" Megan demanded, running up to their table hand-in-hand with Lucia. "They're starting an investigation into the staff and students about the Halloween bombings!"

"Wait, what?" Jennifer demanded, raising her head. "What about the Halloween bombings? Thanksgiving's tomorrow!"

"Well, apparently there was a Mary Sue behind the bombings and she had been taking refuge in the Staff conservatory; I think Sakura was talking about that the other day! Anyways, she's escaped."

"The Mary Sue escaped," Jennifer repeated.

"And now they're investigating everyone," Megan finished.

Sure enough, Lucy Robinson-Honda came running in, nearly tripping over her skates (thank the Powers that Be for skate guards) as she went. "EVERYONE, WE HAVE TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND STUFF!"

"Wait, what?" Cristiana Moretti wondered.

"Investigation," Lucy panted. "They were just asking us hockey players about this Mary Sue that escaped."

"A Mary Sue escaped? I didn't know we even had…" Yuki-rin mumbled, glaring at the Special People group.

"Don't look at us!" Ema Skye screeched. "We didn't do anything!"

"That Mary Sue has been in the Staff Section since the bomb," Carolina pointed out matter-of-factly. "Sakura had to fight her, remember?"

"When did the Mary Sue escape in the first place?" Ema wondered.

The room fell silent as Sadiq Adnan stormed into the room, followed by a sleepy Heracles Karpusi and his retinue of cats.

"Turkey? OH MY GOSH, TURKEY I LOVE YOU!" someone screamed. There was a long silence after that.

"I hope there aren't any Armenians in here," Loki Shadow Reave said in a carrying whisper. Sadiq glared at her.

"All right," he snapped. "Let's get down to business. I've got questions for you, and you have to answer as truthfully as you can, or else."

"Don't send us on a death march into Syria," Loki retorted.

"Please… try… to cooperate… with him," Heracles mumbled drowsily. "Just… this… once. Turkish… bastard's… trying to… get things… done…"

"Hey, Greece!" someone else yelled. "How's Kiku?" There were hisses from people who weren't Giripan shippers.

"How… am… I supposed… to… know? I was… thinking about Socrates'... death…" Heracles replied. "So… answer… the questions."

"_Thank you_, Heracles," Sadiq growled. He then turned back to the students. "Now, where were you on Monday afternoon, between the hours of three and five o'clock?"

"Not lying about killing Armenians," Loki muttered, causing Sadik and Trkey to blob onto her and drag her out of the room. "WHERE ARE YOU TWO TAKING ME? I SWEAR, I WILL GORE YOU WITH MY HORNS IF YOU DON'T – MMF!"

"That was quite enough Armenian Genocide comments for the day," Karin sighed.

"It's not a genocide," Sadiq snapped. "It was deportation and civil war."

"Deportation deeper _into_ the country?" Karin pointed out.

"Would you like to visit the Golag, too?" At that, Karin fell silent, looking unamused. Off to the side, Heracles was feeding Hercales and Kiko raw eggs and bacon.

Sadiq huffed, muttered something about 'bleedin' useless Greek bastards', and glared at the students. "Well, answer my question! Where were each and every one of you on Monday afternoon between the hours of three and five o'clock?"

"Hockey practice," Lucia Verdas replied. "Same goes for Luna, Karin, Taylor, Emmanuella, Hotaru, Shelby, Yuki-rin, and Merka."

"Studying in the library," Tori Troutman added.

"Debating with Ryo and Carol in the library," Franklin Livingston said. Ryosuke Nakayama nodded in agreement. Carolina shrugged but nodded as well.

"Sleeping," Jennifer answered. Sadiq raised both eyebrows. "In my room. Afternoon nap. I tend to fall asleep in class, you know?"

"All right, I see," Sadiq replied in a very unconvinced voice. "Anyone else?"

"Trying to learn how to cook pasta," Karen DuLay offered. "Staff Kitchens with Feliciano from three to four."

"You got near Feli?" Mitsuki Horenake demanded, glaring. "How dare you!"

"Eep! I was just trying to learn so I could impress Ludwig!" Karen wibbled.

"Liar! I bet you drugged Feli! My poor little Italian meatball…" Mitsuki rocked back and forth, looking as if she was on the verge of tears. Sadiq raised both eyebrows.

"Feliciano's a nasty bugger. I don't think…" he began to say, but left off at the enraged expression on her face. "Next question! Do you have any more information about the Mary Sue's escape?"

Sakura raised her hand. "I was in the conservatory from the day of the seminar to nine o'clock on Monday morning," she reported. "I might tell you more about the Mary Sue."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sadiq demanded, glaring at her. "I'm taking you to see Mr. Allen. Heracles, you lazy Greek bastard, get up!"

"Tell Kiku I said hi!" someone shouted as the two left with Sakura and a crowd of kittens.

"Ew, Giripan!" Kriss retorted. "Asakiku all the way!"

Jennifer groaned as another ship war broke out.

* * *

Norway's class was the last class on Thursday before the Thanksgiving party. Even non-American students were attending the party – extra food was extra food, after all.

"We're talking about the Scottish legend of Tam Lin today," Norway said quietly as he sidled into the Mythology and Folklore classroom flanked by his trolls. Looking bored, he walked up to the podium and stared coolly at them. "Does anyone know about this tale?"

No one answered. "We'll read about it, then," the Norwegian replied. "Open your textbooks, please."

Jennifer opened her copy of the textbook (_Tales of the People_, by Ima Troll. Everyone had groaned at the punny author's name when they first got the book) and turned to the tale of Tam Lin.

Norway had been taking attendance while everyone was flipping to that page, and he suddenly looked up. "Does anyone know where Sabrina, Ema, Kiril, sierra, Sakura, Loki, Lucia, and Azure are?" he asked.

_Loki got sent to the Golag_, Mirabelle replied.

"We don't know about the others," Kiri Olaveja added.

"All right, then." Norway sighed. "Is everyone on the same page? Good. We'll be reading about Tam Lin today. He is a human who serves as a knight to the Fairy Queen. Every seven years, she pays tithe to Hell by sacrificing one of her knights. It so happens that Tam Lin is chosen this time around."

"Poor bloke," Neira Henrietta said.

"I wouldn't pity him so fast if I were you," Norway replied. "Read on…" the classroom door swung open, and Denmark strode in with an axe in his hand. "For God's sake, Denmark, put the axe down!"

"Oh, come on, Norge, we're going skiing this afternoon! We've got the jump all ready and no one's using the slopes, so all the snow's fresh! Why're you teaching? You can leave that to someone else, can't you?"

"I am teaching because it's printed on my schedule, you idiot," Norway hissed.

"Tch! And we all call you the Mountain Monkey for what?" Denmark swung his axe, causing some girls to scream and dive under their desks.

"Denmark! You are disrupting the class!" Norway stormed from the podium and started pushing him out of the classroom. "I'll go skiing with you later!"

"I'll take note of that, Mountain Monkey!" Denmark hollered as Norway slammed the door in his face and nodded for his trolls to guard the door.

"Danish dog," the Norwegian muttered as he walked back to the podium. "Read the passage, and then we'll talk."

* * *

"Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!" Alfred cheered as the students re-entered the Platonic Love classroom. He was dressed like a Native American; a very grumpy Arthur was dressed as a very grumpy Pilgrim. Poor Matthew was trussed up like a turkey. "Like my Indian outfit?"

"Needs more sari," Megan muttered. "Unless you're talking about _Native Americans_…"

"Say, do you know why Lucia disappeared?" Jennifer wondered as Arthur started hacking at the (thankfully not Canadian) turkey on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Workbitch entering the room with a stack of papers. The secretary wore a Pilgrim hat; he grinned sheepishly at her as he handed the papers to Arthur and left the room.

"Oh, so that's where my hat went! You stole my hat, Work! Give it back!" Arthur snapped suddenly, waving his knife as he stood up and ran out of the room. Jennifer immediately sprung upon the documents, flipping hastily through them before Arthur returned.

"What do they say?" Megan demanded as Jennifer returned, trying her best to look innocent as she ate her mashed potatoes.

"Stuff," Jennifer replied vaguely. "About the investigation."

"Tell me more. I mean, I don't know why Luchie-poo disappeared, and I'm sad about that," Megan sighed.

They went to a pair of desks and began eating as Arthur re-entered the room wearing his Pilgrim hat. Jennifer sighed and looked at her mashed potatoes.

"She was taken because the Staff suspects her of helping the Mary Sue escape," she said after a moment.

Megan blinked. "Why Lucia?" she wondered sadly.

Jennifer patted her back. "They're taking anyone suspected to be a Mary Sue. That's basically everyone in the Special People group, and –"

"Miss Megan?" Arthur had approached them, Angelterre at his heels. He handed her a slip of paper – one of the papers that Jennifer had overlooked. "Finish your dinner and report to Mr. Allen's office. You are being quarantined."

The alien girl's fork clattered to the ground.


	21. The Age of Paranoia

**Notes:** Psst, **huskies4EVER**, check the French in chapter five again. I'm using the futur proche correctly, right?

Anyways, I will be closing winter registration by the next update (that's one or two more days, depending on my mood/the muses/any events coming up). So if you've got a fanbrat, go fill out the form! There will be spring registration around Eastertime, too.

We're drawing close to the end of the first semester (at Christmas; I'm being a lazy ass and not making each semester mathematically equal). Hopefully several plot points will be resolved by then. And _yes_, I am trying to make a very ironic point with the quarantine. Hope you can figure it out.

* * *

**Part XXI**

December fell upon the school like falling snow. Glittering and dancing, the snowflakes coated just about every available surface. Blizzards were starting to become more and more frequent, to the point where Matthew's team nearly mutinied at having to practice in a snowstorm.

Matthew didn't care, of course. Hockey rage was hockey rage. He had barely scraped a victory against Alfred in their match in late November; he was now compensating for the loss of two teammates (Azure and Kiril) by pushing the rest in a manner that would have made any tiger parent proud.

Jennifer had to admit that she missed Megan. She had no idea where the alien went; Workbitch was being very evasive about the whole quarantine thing. He didn't seem to support the idea, though.

"It's like the internment camps," he admitted one afternoon as they sat side by side against a window, watching the snowflakes. "They're completely isolated from the rest of the school and are questioned pretty much every day. It's terrible, but Mr. Allen's not backing down."

"Why not?" Jennifer wondered, rubbing her hands together and breathing on them. Gods, they felt like icicles. "They're innocent! Is Mr. Allen just trying to make it look like he's doing something when he isn't?"

Workbitch's expression was serious. "Mr. Allen's primary concern is the safety of this school," he said gravely.

"Megan would never have helped the Mary Sue escape," Jennifer replied. "Students have rarely entered the Staff Section, so how can Megan –"

"I'm not saying that your friend is guilty, Jennifer," Workbitch replied quietly. "I'm just saying that the school is in a state of emergency and Mr. Allen is concerned about a possible attack that may be facilitated by one of the… more Mary Sue-like students in the school."

"You're saying that those students are spies for the Mary Sues!"

Workbitch flushed red. "I didn't say anything of the sort! I'm just doing the paperwork!"

"That's just as guilty in my book!" Jennifer snapped, crossing her arms. "Megan and Lucia are innocent, and you helped imprison them!"

"Jennifer, you are taking this too personally!" Workbitch snapped, looking just as furious. "What can I do? I'm subordinate to Mr. Allen. The school stands under threat of attack. If one of the students turns out to have been helping the Mary Sues –"

"Well, I don't think that these 'Mary Sue Internment Camps' are necessary –"

"Jennifer, please think of it in the proper context –"

"Workbitch?" The two turned to see a nurse with dark hair and brilliant green eyes. There was something strange about her – something familiar, even. Jennifer frowned a little.

"What is it, Nurse Takara?" Workbitch groaned.

"You're expected at the courtroom."

Jennifer jumped up. "Now you're trying them?" she screamed at Workbitch, horrified.

"Not the students," Workbitch muttered. "Me."

"They're trying you?" Jennifer blinked, feeling dazed and stupid. "What's going on?"

"A tribunal," Nurse Takara replied. There seemed to be an odd glow about her. "Set up by McCarthy Era Alfred and Spanish Inquisition Antonio, the tribunal is designed to root out Mary Sue sympathisers within the IAHF staff." She sent a sidelong look at Workbitch, who blushed slightly. "Anyone found guilty will be placed on probation and possibly… _deported_." The way she said 'deported' chilled the fangirl to the bones.

There was a scream from far off. "Another student trying to sneak in?" Workbitch sighed.

"Either that, or someone just got deported," Takara replied with a shrug.

"Where do you go when you're deported?" Jennifer wondered, shivering.

"How do we know?" Workbitch mumbled. "Mr. Allen has never deported anyone… yet."

* * *

"Well, this isn't a very happy Christmas season," Alexandria Russell complained on a Monday evening at dinnertime. "I failed my Japanese test."

"How?" Anastasia Debby wondered. Alexandria pulled out her test and handed it to the other fangirl.

"Look, I got 'kaerimasen' and 'kaerimasu' mixed up, and then I messed up the entire hiragana chart…"

"Ouch," Anastasia mumbled, looking at the test.

"Ha, you think that's bad," scoffed Shannon Price. "Look at my Italian test! I forgot how to conjugate '-are' verbs and I thought that 'lezione' was masculine! And then –"

"Yeah, sure, that's great," Roksana growled. "Look at my French quiz! I mixed up 'aller' and 'avoir'!"

"What? How? Those conjugations are completely different!" Huskie snapped.

"Can we all shut up about our tests?" Emmanuella demanded, her German essay crumpled in her hands. "Look, our friends are stuck in some internment camp in who-knows-where. That's definitely indicative of an unhappy Christmas season, am I correct?"

"Unhappy holidays to you, too," Roksana mumbled.

"Oh, right, I don't think you're Christian…" Emmanuella looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"Haha, 'unhappy holidays' sounds funny," Alexandria snickered. "Unhappy holidays, unhappy holidays… While the mournful bells keep ringing, may your every thought be blue…"

Some people giggled. "Making fun of holiday carols?" Andrew Ho cackled. "That's so retarded."

"But it's fun," Rachael Wilkison pointed out. "We should have a contest!"

Jennifer sighed and ate her fondue with a completely straight face. As an Edelweiss versus SwissLiecht food fight broke out, she groaned and took her platter out of the room. Sometimes she could really be a depressed loner, it seemed.

"These food fights happen often?" Workbitch was standing around outside, snowflakes resting in his hair and scarf.

"How was the tribunal?" Jennifer asked, completely averting the question. "I didn't see you for a week."

Workbitch sighed. "I'm not guilty, but McCarthy Alfred is more paranoid than a bird and has put me on probation anyways. At this rate, there'll be cameras set up in everyone's rooms."

"That'd be inconvenient," Jennifer blurted out, before blushing bright red. "I meant…"

"I know what you mean," Workbitch said, pink around the cheeks as well.

"Oh, well…" Jennifer sighed. "I'm sorry about losing my temper with you last time," she admitted.

"It's okay," he replied, sighing. "Holiday decorations will be going up soon, I think, and Sealand's nearly done with customs."

"New students? When are they coming?" Jennifer wondered aloud.

"At the end of the first semester," Workbitch answered. Jennifer nodded as she ate her fondue.

"I… see…" she sighed after a moment. "No news on Megan?"

"There's news, but I can't tell you." He bit his lower lip. "McCarthy Alfred would have my head."

Jennifer sighed. "Way to comfort me," she complained.

"Would a hug be better?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. She giggled, blushing, but hugged him all the same.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked when they broke away. He nodded, eyes twinkling as she walked back into the cafeteria.

* * *

The holiday decorations went up, but no one seemed cheerful. An air of paranoia seeped through staff and students alike, to the point where Arthur nearly strangled Alfred in Platonic Love class, temporarily mistaking him for his McCarthy counterpart.

"Ow, Artie! Ow! That fucking hurt!" Alfred complained when Arthur's psychotic moment passed. "What was that for?"

Arthur blinked. "Oh, bloody hell, you're not _him_ are you?"

"I'm not my McCarthy counterpart!" Alfred whined. "I don't know what's wrong with that bugger! He even had me investigated! _Me!_ Me, a Mary Sue-sympathising Commie bastard? As if!"

"I know, I was there in the courtroom," Arthur groaned. "He tried me next, accusing me of liking the attention from the Mary Sues. _Liking_!"

"I never thought I'd say this, but man, I _hate_ that guy," Alfred grumbled.

The USUK shippers were all starry-eyed at their ship grousing about a common enemy together. Alfred and Arthur were standing side-by-side with the air of two friends who had been seriously wronged by a third party. After a moment, Arthur looked up and glared at the USUK shippers.

"What are you lot staring at? Do your worksheets! Your final exam's in two weeks, I'll have you know!"

"Yeah, you need to pass that to take International Relations," Alfred chipped in.

"Can't you just pass all of us and save yourselves the work?" Hotaru wondered aloud.

"Absolutely not!" Arthur snapped. "You're passing this test because you don't want to disappoint us, now do you?" The two immediately adopted pleading expressions. "Can't resist the puppy dog face, right?"

"Fuck, you're right," Karin grumbled, scribbling away at her worksheet.

"Well, then work!" Arthur exclaimed, still managing to pull off the kicked puppy expression while yelling at them.

The students immediately bent over their desks and started working again. Arthur dropped the expression and rolled his eyes. "Back to the original topic," he complained loudly. "Did you hear who he and Spanish Inquisition Antonio are going to investigate next?"

"Who?" Alfred wondered.

"The Chibi Nations."

The American gasped. "No!" he exclaimed. "That's unjust! I'm a hero, and the hero disapproves of investigating cute little Chibis!"

"Yeah, your McCarthy clone thinks that Chibitalia might have helped the Mary Sue by making her pasta or something," Arthur said sarcastically. "If Feliciano was found innocent of that charge, then shouldn't Chibitalia be innocent, too?"

"I know!" Alfred sighed, with all the air of a high school gossip girl. Jennifer half expected him to examine his nails and say 'totally uncool!' any moment.

Arthur sighed as well. "Makes me wonder who the real culprit is, though. I mean, I don't think they should've imprisoned those students; it's obvious that they never set foot in the Staff Section, much less helped a Mary Sue escape it. But no, Mr. Allen insisted…"

"That guy needs to get laid," Alfred remarked.

"_ALFRED_!"

"Telling it like it is, man! I mean, he acts like you the morning after –"

"_SHUT UP, WE'RE IN A ROOM FULL OF FANGIRLS_!"

"Oh, right." The USUK shippers had perked up. "I was just going to say 'the morning after someone shoves a stick up your ass' but sure."

"_WHAT DID YOU SAY_, YOU BLEEDING WANKER?"

"Oh, you heard me. Don't be a deaf old fart," Alfred said innocently, whistling cheerily.

"_FUCK YOU_!"

* * *

"What if we're next?" Merka wondered fearfully at lunch. "Next to the tribunals and then internment?"

"Why are you asking me?" Jennifer moaned, crossing her arms and looking at Merka across the table.

"You know, I bet they'd get you next," Kitty pointed out as she walked past with a bowl of Pho. "Since you're _Mrs. Bartholomew_, after all."

"He's a friend!" Jennifer screeched, throwing a spring roll at Kitty's head. "F-R-I-E-N-D!"

"F is for friends who do stuff together, U is for you and me," Alexandra Reynolds sang innocently.

"Oh, shut up," Jennifer sighed.

"Just ask him out already; I'm about to lose my bet," Alexandra replied. Jennifer skulked.

"But in all seriousness," Merka mumbled. "I'm scared to be next. It could happen, you know."

"You're not a Mary Sue," Jennifer pointed out. "They picked on the non-human students."

"That means I could be next!" Lydia screamed suddenly. "I'm part-carrot!"

"And I've got this horn," Emmanuella chipped in, stroking her horn gingerly. "We could be next! That's awful!"

"No, I bet the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles is next!" Nastashia Fernandez declared dramatically, standing up and pointing right to Kriss and Merka.

"Why, was the Mary Sue an England fangirl?" Kriss demanded.

"Actually, she was," Carolina noted. "Sakura said so."

"I bet the Nerds are next!" Sara exclaimed suddenly. "I mean, they know too much!"

"Then I suppose you're next," Franklin Livingston pointed out. "Since you're such a Canada fangirl!"

"That has nothing to do with the Mary Sue!" Sara exclaimed. "On the other hand, you know too much about the Mary Sue!"

"You'd know the Staff Section better, since you're always trying to sneak into Matthew's room!" Tori exclaimed.

"Can we stop pointing fingers?" Merka complained. "It's not helping me get rid of the paranoia!"

"It's a conspiracy!" Emmanuella declared. "I bet that the Staff knows who helped the Sue and they're just creating this atmosphere to scare the fuck out of us! Well, that's cruel!"

"You know what's even more cruel?" Kriss exclaimed. "The fact that our classmates are being detained in some other part of the school!"

"The problem is that they signed the contract, like the rest of us," Rachael pointed out. "So the Staff's not going to be held accountable for that."

Kriss slumped. "That's right…" she muttered after a while. "I hope they find the culprit soon."

* * *

Takara looked across the courtroom at Mr. Allen – Mr. Hugh today – from her position in front of the tribunal.

"Miss Takara, you are certain that you did not provide assistance to the Mary Sue?" Spanish Inquisition Antonio asked again. She nodded.

"Of course, I didn't," she lied, her expression confident. The Aura of Smooth had worked beautifully. McCarthy Alfred was looking rather slack-jawed, and Mr. Hugh had been intently watching her during the interrogation.

"Well then, you are not guilty," Antonio replied, slamming the gavel down. "You may leave."

Takara swept out of the courtroom, attracting the attention of the other male observers as she left. She had to hand it to them – they played beautifully into _her_ hands.

Her conscience screamed at her. _It's not right! Why did you agree to this? Do you see the effect you have on them? Their brainwashed stares? Takara, what's wrong with you?_

_Shut up!_ The side of her desperate for Mr. Hugh's attention screamed back. _I won't listen to you! This is my only chance to get him to notice me!_

"Miss Takara?" It was that Workbitch fellow. Takara could tell that he suspected her by that look in his eyes. She regarded him coolly – he was only one against the rest of the staff, and he told that student that he had no say in things, anyways.

_If he tried anything_… Takara's dark side smirked, wondering what Workbitch would say if she convinced Mr. Hugh to write a warrant of arrest for that student. That student might know too much, anyways.

Workbitch continued to glare at her. "Congratulations on not being found guilty," he said sarcastically. She raised an eyebrow.

"And to you, too." She paused. "Be careful, Work."

"I tread on thin ice all the time," he replied enigmatically, brushing past her. "You don't need to threaten me."

Takara watched him leave. For a moment, her conscience guilt tripped her. She shook her head, blinking away tears.

_No guilt! No guilt! I won't stand for any guilt!_ she thought furiously. _You have no power over me!_

Quoting _Labyrinth_ was always appropriate, after all.


	22. Glitter Bombs, Glitter Bombs

**Notes:** Winter registration is now CLOSED. Those who want to enter will have to wait for spring enrolment.

Also, I don't own "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen. I also don't own "Jingle Bells" or "Here Comes Santa Claus".

* * *

**Part XXII**

"Dashing through the room, with a bomb in the punch bowl –"

"That's not funny!" Roksana Abdullah howled.

"Glitter everywhere; the room is getting cold!"

"That makes it worse!" Carolina Brown protested.

"My vision's full of spots; there's voices in my head! I twirl and pass out on the floor and then my dress turns Bled!"

"Not. Funny," Jennifer groaned.

"OH GLITTER BOMBS, GLITTER BOMBS, CHARACTERS BEWARE! MARY SUE GOT THE FLU AND IS SNEEZING EVERYWHERE, OH! GLITTER BOMBS, GLITTER BOMBS –"

"SHUT UP!" Roksana, Carolina, and Jennifer yelled at the same time.

Anita blinked. "MARY SUES – oh. Sorry." She grinned sheepishly.

"That's not funny," Roksana muttered, pouting.

"Especially with the school like this," Carolina added.

"Something must be done," Jennifer sighed.

"Coming through! Move! Beep, beep! Move away! The Hero's Christmas tree is here!" Alfred hollered as he burst into the entrance hall just outside the room where the orientation (and the now-infamous Halloween bombings) took place. "Beep, beep! Get out of the way!" Behind the American was a giant bison, lugging a giant Christmas tree with it on a sled. As the halls were frozen over (Alfred and Ivan had attempted to make snow forts in their literal Cold War – again), the sled glided through easily.

"That's a huge tree," Anita breathed.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Shelby remarked as she and Sally appeared on the scene.

"Put it in the middle, old boy," Alfred said fondly, patting the bison's head as they headed out to the centre of the hall. Some of the students had been slapped in the face with branches when the tree slid by – but the parade wasn't over yet.

"You sure this ladder is safe?" Arthur called as he and Ivan carried a gigantic ladder on their shoulders. Ivan whacked several fangirls out of the way with a sunflower as they went by.

"One hundred and one percent sure!" Alfred exclaimed as Ivan set up the ladder. "I'm a hero, after all! Now help me set up the tree!"

"Excusez-nous, s'il vous plaît! Attention! Attention!" Francis called as he, Kiku, and Yao hurried past with giant boxes.

"Careful, aru! These decorations are fragile, aru!"

"Excuse us, please. We're sorry for the inconvenience – akuma-san, get off me!" He directed the last part at Lucy, who had chose the moment to cling onto his leg. "Aaugh!" he screamed as the box fell out of his hands.

"I've got it!" Feliciano appeared out of nowhere (or probably a plot hole) and grabbed the box. "Here you go, Kiku!"

"Ar-arigatou, Feli-kun." Kiku bowed and took the box. "I am truly sorry for troubling you like that."

"No problem, Kiku! I mean, the ornaments are so shiny…"

"Feliciano! Didn't I just tell you not to play with shiny ornaments?" Ludwig had appeared as well, causing Karen DuLay to trip over Lucy's now-unconscious form in her rush to get to the German.

"But they're so shiny…" Feliciano pouted as he and Ludwig followed their Japanese friend to where the tree was being erected. "Did you see that bauble? It was telling me to play with it, Luddy! It was, I swear! It was telling me 'Feliiiii, plaaaaay with meeeeee'."

"Did someone put drugs in your pasta?" Ludwig asked, frowning.

"I don't know," the Italian grinned. "When are we going to play with the ornaments, Kiku?"

"Er, when Alfred-san sets up the tree."

"Did you hear about…?" Ludwig's voice dropped from a growl to a whisper, causing the other Axis members to lean in closer to him.

"No! Not Chibinihon!" Feliciano screamed suddenly. Kiku's eyebrows raised, but he gave no other sign of surprise.

"House arrest?" the Japanese man said after a while. "But he doesn't even _have_ a house…"

"Shush! We have to be quiet," Ludwig hissed. "The secret police might be in here." And then he made a big show of glaring at the Allies as they squabbled over the ornaments. "I don't like our current situation. We can't even express our thoughts anymore. It feels… it feels like…" his shoulder shook slightly, as if he was holding in tears.

The unheard message passed through the three anyways. "Yes, it does," Kiku said after a moment, looking pained.

"What sort of school has secret police patrolling its occupants?" Feliciano wondered sadly.

"A school run by a paranoid…" Ludwig trailed off, softly cursing in German. Kiku covered Feliciano's ears anyways.

"Do you think our… darker counterparts… might be responsible for the secret police?" the Japanese man asked after he uncovered Feliciano's ears. "You know what I mean, right?"

"Ja, I considered it." Ludwig's eyes were sad. "But that's the point of the _secret _police. We don't know who they are."

* * *

Jennifer groaned, resisting the urge to headdesk. They were covering the American Revolution in Canon 101 tomorrow and she was having minimal success with reading the German textbook. For a moment, she wondered if she could borrow Megan's French Canon 101 textbook, but then she remembered that Megan was in the internment camp.

"I bet I failed Ivan's pop quiz in Russian today," Jodie Smith complained.

_If you failed, then I failed, too_, Luna Correa replied comfortingly.

"I mean, I completely confused the entire alphabet…" Jodie lamented. "Я не говорю по-русски."

"Say what?" Summer demanded loudly from across the library.

"I heard Russian," Karin Guarez declared.

"Revolution!" Kriss suddenly declared dramatically, slamming her textbook shut and hopping onto the table. "We need to do a revolution!"

"You're not saying this just because you read about the American one, right?" Gregory Bob Walton demanded.

"Of course not! I propose that we form a Lurkers' Union!" The Nerd Group sniggered.

"Lurkers of the world, unite," Carolina declared sarcastically. "I don't know what lurking has to do with revolting, though."

"That actually sounds like a good slogan!" Merka hopped onto the table next to Kriss. "Our first order of business is to rescue our fellow students in the internment camps!"

The students cheered. "Yes! We must!" Emmanuella exclaimed. "Those poor peers of ours, being wrongly imprisoned. Even the Staff admit that it's wrong, but…"

"Their only obstacle is Mr. Allen and the tribunal!" Carolina gasped. "If we petition for Mr. Allen to let them go, do you think – "

Arthur and Francis suddenly entered the room in dark suits and sunglasses. "We are looking for Miss Chang," Secret Agent Arthur announced. Jennifer's head shot up from her desk.

At the same time, the entire revolutionary group had moved to block her from the Secret Agents' sights. "You'll have to get through us first!" Sara Parker cried.

Secret Agents Arthur and Francis looked at each other, but suddenly the door to the library opened again and Secret Agents Alfred and Ivan burst in.

"This is KGB Ivan and his incompetent partner CIA Alfred," the Ivan in sunglasses stated. "We have a warrant of arrest for Jennifer Faye Chang."

"No, _we_ have the warrant of arrest!" Secret Agent Francis screeched, waving the piece of paper in Ivan's face.

"I'm certain_ we_ have the_ right_ one, DGSE Francis and MI6 Arthur," the Russian replied.

"Wait, wait, how did the two of you pair up in the first place? You two are supposed to be dysfunctional!" MI6 Arthur snapped suddenly.

"And what about the two of you?" CIA Alfred piped up. "Age-old rivalry ring a bell?"

"Shut up! We're supposed to arrest a student! We can arrest her together, then!" The four inept Secret Agents turned their attention to the students.

"Which one of you is Jennifer Faye Chang?" DGSE Francis asked calmly.

"We don't want to resort to torture," KGB Ivan added.

"What the hell is going on?" Jennifer demanded from behind the wall of students.

"They're trying to arrest you," Kriss whispered. "We're not going to let them!"

Jennifer stared.

* * *

"Glitter bombs, Glitter bombs, characters beware! Mary Sue got the flu and is sneezing everywhere…" Antonio Carriedo was singing again, strumming his guitar as he went. It was Tuesday already, and they had _just_ found the tinsel for the giant tree in the entrance hall.

"You bastard, you shouldn't be singing about that sort of thing!" Lovino Vargas snapped, almost jogging to keep up with the Spaniard. "And help me carry these boxes of tinsel, you pathetic piece of shit!"

"Ahaha, Lovino, you look like you're doing fine on your own," Antonio chuckled. "I thought I ought to sing some songs to lighten the mood! It's been so gloomy lately…" he sighed, before continuing to strum. "Glitter bombs, Glitter bombs…"

"Not _that _song!" Lovino hissed.

"Oh, a different one?" Antonio grinned, striking up a new tune. "Here comes Mary Sue, skipping down United Nations Lane!"

"It's United Nations _Plaza_; get it right you dumbass," Lovino grumbled.

"Alfred and Arthur and all the Nations are twitching now in pain! Sirens ringing, children screaming, what a terrible sight! Guided missiles make Sues go 'boom'; let's kill the Sue tonight –"

"Okay, now you're scaring me." Lovino walked away from him. "You creepy tomato bastard."

"Hey, it's the holiday spirit – oh, _mierda_." They had just walked past the entrance to a corridor in the Staff Section – the corridor leading to Mr. Hugh's office.

Lovino's eyes bugged. Without further warning, he grabbed Antonio's wrist and dragged the two of them away from that corridor. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

"I don't know, but I don't want to see that _ever again_!" Antonio looked quite shaken.

"Why can't people take those sorts of things to their own rooms instead of fucking around in the hallways like that?" Lovino complained. "Fucking hell!"

"And that was the nurse, too! Well, that really shy nurse. Although she hasn't been really shy as of late."

"Did you see her at her hearing?" Lovino demanded. "That nurse has –"

"Oh, Lovi, we don't need to hear your sick fantasies about Mr. Hugh's new girlfriend," Antonio teased.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Lovino's face was bright red. "Can we get these decorations to the others sometime this century?"

They appeared at the site of the Christmas tree moments later. The others had just resumed decorating; Ivan was holding the ladder for Yao as the Chinese man hung baubles around the top of the tree. "We come bringing tinsel!" Antonio cheered, tossing one end of a tinsel garland to Francis.

"Fratello! You decided to get into the Christmas spirit?" Feliciano asked cheerfully, bouncing over and grabbing another tinsel garland.

"Bah, humbug," Lovino replied.

* * *

"Jennifer Faye Chang, do you know why you are here today?" McCarthy Alfred demanded, peering at Jennifer over the rim of his glasses. Much to the others' protests, Jennifer had went quietly with the inept secret agents, whispering something to Merka about intelligence as she left.

Workbitch was sitting in the jury box with other staff members – however, in this mockery of a trial, the jury really had no function. McCarthy Alfred and Spanish Inquisition Antonio decided everything.

"No, no one told me," Jennifer replied.

"That's absurd," Workbitch snapped from his position. "Even though the students signed the contract, they should at least be told why they're being tried! A _modicum_ of respect, maybe?"

"Silence!" Alfred shouted, banging the gavel. "You are here because we have evidence that you wrote a fanfiction in support of the Mary Sue, thus helping her escape."

"Wait, how is that even possible?" Jennifer demanded. "I didn't write a fanfic, and how do Mary Sues escape through fanfiction, anyways?"

"Silence! This evidence here is conclusive proof of your guilt!"

"Read it and I'll tell you if it's my writing style!" Jennifer retorted.

"Are you challenging my authority?" McCarthy Alfred bellowed. "I could send you directly to the internment camp, but someone took pity on you and suggested that you have a trial first."

Jennifer shot a 'wow, this is so stupid' look at Workbitch, who nodded. Several other jury members (like Chibitalia, Holy Roman Empire, and the Mama Greece-Vase) seemed to agree. Although it was hard to tell if Mama Greece-Vase agreed; she was a _vase_, after all.

"Don't act disrespectful to the court," McCarthy Alfred snapped. "Because of this evidence, I now proclaim you –"

"I'm just a poor girl! Nobody loves me!" Jennifer shouted suddenly.

"She's just a poor girl from a poor family! Spare her her life from this monstrosity!" the very ineffective jury chipped in.

"Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?" Jennifer asked.

"Bizmillah, NO! We will not let you go!" McCarthy Alfred and Spanish Inquisition Antonio barked.

"Let her go!" the jury chanted.

"Bizmillah, we will not let her go!"

"Let me go!"

"Will not let you go!"

"Let me go!"

"Will not let you go!"

"Let me go!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no,_ no_!"

"Mamma mia!" Chibitalia declared. "Mamma mia, let her go!"

* * *

Moonlight filtered into the room, and Takara watched Mr. Hugh's sleeping form. That had been the best Tuesday night of her life.

The Aura of Smooth phial twinkled at her from her coat pocket. Takara shuddered slightly, looking away from it. Everything she had wanted was in her hands now. As if to prove it to herself, she reached out and touched Mr. Hugh's shoulder.

He shifted in his sleep and she smiled, willing away tears. God, he was beautiful – but her conscience sneered at her, told her that she cheated and that she didn't deserve him.

_Takara, you Mary Sue. Look at you. You're pathetic_. Her conscience jeered; if it had a face it would probably look like a troll. _He told you that he only saw Florance as a friend. Why were you jealous in the first place? If you'd waited for him, instead of rushing like this… it would have made victory so much sweeter. Now you've given everything to him, and he might not even want it. He won't, because you made him do it against his will_.

Takara watched her image in the mirror at the foot of the bed. "He said he loves me," she said to herself, partly to assuage the troll-like conscience. "He said it."

_You made him say it. All of this was done against his will._

"Would he forgive me?"

_I wouldn't, if I were him._

Takara hated how vulnerable she was at nighttime, when the Aura of Smooth ebbed away to reveal her much less confident personality. "But…" she began to say, and suddenly she was blinking away tears. "But…"

"What's wrong?" Mr. Hugh had woken up, his blue eyes clouded with confusion. "Was I that terrible?"

"No, it's not you," Takara mumbled, still sniffling. Mr. Hugh sat up, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Then what is it?" he wondered, looking at her. "You can tell me."

Takara's breath hitched. "No, I can't," she admitted.


	23. Vive La Revolution

**Part XXIII**

"There's someone coming," Megan said.

They had already been in the internment camp for a week. The camp was situated below the Staff Section, not too far away from Auchwits and the You Won't Believe It's Not the Mediterranean Coast Mochi Nudist Beach. The only difference was that the internment camp was virtually isolated from everything and had nearly every square inch of the premises covered by surveillance cameras.

The prisoners hadn't been treated _badly_, per se, but the camp wasn't exactly a five-star hotel either. They had food and water, but they were constantly watched by cameras and Mochis. The real tortures were the pressing horrors of boredom, the constant paranoia from surveillance, and the helplessness of isolation – and the occasional Nudist Beach Clean-up.

The most striking difference between the internment camp and Auchwits was that when a student went to Auchwits, they knew why they were there and when they were getting out. Here, that wasn't the case. Day in, day out, they were prisoners; there were bars in their doorways and windows (not that windows were very helpful).

"Who's coming?" Lucia mumbled, looking forlornly at her girlfriend from her cot. The mermaid had it worse than most, simply because she had been deprived of her water tub for a week. She was starting to make raisins look like grapes, so she spent her days cocooned in a blanket, wallowing in self-pity.

"Jennifer," Sakura pointed out. She wasn't a true Mary Sue, but they had thrown her into the camp (which was more like prison than Auchwits _and_ the Golag) anyways because she had been the last student in the Staff Section before the Mary Sue (or, as the students called her, the Sparkly Terrorist) escaped.

"No!" Megan gasped, but KGB Ivan was already escorting Jennifer into a cell. Everyone could at least look out along the hallway from his or her cell, after all. "Jennifoos, you all right, bro?"

"A bit tired," Jennifer called back.

"How'd you get in here?" Sabrina asked from across the hall.

"Trial… well, _mock_ trial, since there was no justice and the evidence made bullshit look good," Jennifer deadpanned as Ivan clunked away.

"Better than just being put in here," Kiril Loris remarked wearily. He had been suffering from blood withdrawal and spent his days in a half-vegetative state in an attempt to conserve energy.

"Whatever happened to habeas corpus?" Loki Reave remarked. Being a Shadow demon, she had been transferred from the Golag into the internment camp once the arrests started happening.

"It's a corpse," Akiko Arihima answered sarcastically. She was sitting on the ceiling again, kicking out occasionally and doing a couple of back flips. "You get it?"

"That was such a lame pun," Ema Skye groaned from her cell.

"Anyways, why'd they try you, Jennifer?" Azure asked from the cell across from Ema's.

"Je ne sais pas," Jennifer replied with a shrug. "Framed me, perhaps? I'm lucky Mr. Hugh was occupied, or else I'd be deported."

"Occupied!" Megan echoed.

"Yeah, Shinbun said that he was screwing around with one of the nurses." Jennifer lay back on her cot, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you think…?" Loki whispered, looking up nervously at the camera. "I can't say…"

"I think I might be thinking what you're thinking, so that's fine," Jennifer replied wearily. "They're going to start a revolution. You know… our peers… I can't give names right now."

"We understand," Azure sighed. "We really do."

* * *

"We are covering the French Revolution today," Ivan said in History class. "This class is expected to extend into the next semester, although I think Arthur is taking over –" He was immediately drowned out by cheers from the England fangirls. "Quiet, please," the Russian called, banging his water pipe on the desk. "Thank you."

The room fell deathly silent as Ivan began to speak.

"It's hard to talk about the events of the French Revolution without talking about the situation in France before the revolution," the Russian began, starting to write notes on the board. "French society was divided into three estates. The First Estate represented the clergy, or those who prayed. The Second Estate represented the nobles, or those who fought."

"Although at that time it was more 'those who paid'," Carolina grumbled, earning her another glare from Ivan.

"The Third Estate represented the commoners – peasants, workers, and the bourgeoisie. They are 'those who work'. Now, the First and the Second Estates enjoyed exemption from taxes and many privileges, which meant that the Third Estate, which contained most of the French population, paid all the taxes and bore most of the work.

"Now, in the summer of 1788, King Louis XVI called the Estates-General to propose solutions for France's financial problems. Can anyone tell me why they had to do this?"

The room was silent, so Ivan sighed and asked, "What did you just cover in Canon 101?"

"The American Revolution," Karin Guarez replied immediately.

"And the French helped with that, didn't they? They supported the Americans in their fight against the British, didn't they?" There were nods. "Wouldn't that be taxing to France's economy? So the intent of the Estates-General was to evaluate and implement tax reform, something that the First and Second Estates feared."

"Why would they?" Anita Khok wondered.

"The new taxes would affect them, and they didn't want to lose their tax exemption. When the Estates-General convened in 1789, the members came to an impasse. There were six hundred Third Estate members, but that cancelled out against the six hundred First and Second Estate members. The Estates-General would also be upholding the traditional 'voting by order', which meant that each vote was equal regardless of representation. That meant that the first two Estates could outweigh the third."

"That's not fair!" several students cried.

"But since when were we fair?" Ivan retorted, and continued. "Naturally, the six hundred members of the Third Estate and some sympathisers from the First and Second Estates declared themselves the National Assembly, meaning that they did not represent just the Third Estate, but rather all of the people of France. Influenced by his privy council, Louis XVI barred the National Assembly from meeting in their meeting hall. They moved to a nearby tennis court and swore the Tennis Court Oath, which stated that they would not disband until France had a constitution. Startled, Louis called in the troops."

"When did they storm the Bastille?" Eva Danielson wondered.

"That year. On 14 July 1789, the people of Paris stormed the Bastille fortress to get weapons. They essentially destroyed a symbol of the old regime, even if most of the prisoners that they freed were common criminals. Everything happened quickly after that – on 4 August, the National Assembly abolished feudalism. On the twenty-sixth, they wrote the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, which is heavily influenced by the American Declaration of Independence."

"And don't you ever forget it!" Alfred called from the doorframe.

"Oh, shut up, won't you?" Ivan asked sweetly. "I haven't even gotten to the Reign of Terror yet!"

The students shivered in their seats.

* * *

"I hate how we're being watched constantly," Jennifer admitted to no one in particular as the week dragged on. "It's... well, it's unsettling."

"Just ignore the camera," Megan advised from her cell. "Do you know if we're going to be rescued anytime soon?"

The other students perked up at that, looking hopeful. "I don't know," Jennifer said, hating the truth.

There were footsteps, so the students all quickly pretended to be busy. _Clack, clack_. Jennifer looked away from the ceiling to see Workbitch standing there, looking slightly awkward as he peered at her through the bars.

"Hey," Jennifer said softly, waving. He waved back.

"They've turned off the cameras for me, but I've only got five minutes," he whispered as she walked up to the bars. "So let me make this quick. It's going to happen soon. Next week, perhaps. Florance and I are taking over the investigation, and I believe your peers are going to stage something dramatic." He rolled his eyes. "What is it with you lot and drama?"

"Most of history is one long soap opera episode after another?" Jennifer suggested weakly, grasping the bars. Workbitch put his hands over hers, smiling reassuringly.

"I guess you've a point there," he mumbled, blushing slightly. "Shinbun-kun will be along later this week to do an article on the internment camps and the current situation, I think. Don't give up hope."

"I don't really feel like giving it up," Jennifer admitted, and suddenly she was kissing him through the bars, not wanting to part with her only link to the rest of IAHF. _No, please, not this soon_ –

"I've got to go," Workbitch said against her lips; when they pulled away, she could tell that he was blushing. "See you soon."

Jennifer was certain that when he left, her heart felt a little emptier.

* * *

"So, next week is semester finals," Arthur pointed out sweetly in Platonic Love class. "I hope you all are well-prepared for our exam."

"But we've been so caught up in all of this..." Karin Guarez whined.

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Alfred replied, holding up his hands. "We're just going to give you a study guide for our exam next week and then we'll turn you loose. Fair deal?"

The students nodded, so the two of them started passing out the study guides. They were printed on blindingly lime green sheets of paper, something that Alfred quickly explained away as Tony's fault.

"Yeah, I told him to make a bunch of copies, but apparently we were out of white so he decided to use lime green. Don't blame me, just be glad it's not Bled," Alfred rationalised as he finished handing out the papers.

"Tony did what?" Eva Danielson asked, raising both eyebrows as she took her paper.

"Alfred's alien friend," Arthur repeated sarcastically, "is the copy clerk here and Alfred's blaming him for the lime green study guides. At least you lot won't lose them now."

Kriss and Merka looked down at their papers resignedly. "List the characteristics of a bromance. List the differences between platonic and romantic love. Know about Plato's ideas of friendship. Know about – oh my god, this paper colour is just as bad as Bled," Merka groaned.

"I find it funny, though," Kriss noted, "that Tony would print the study guide on lime green paper for Arthur... limey, you know?"

Merka burst into laughter. "That's cruel," she gasped. The other students had looked around to watch them giggle about the paper; Kitty was looking pretty gleeful. "That is just... oh..." she snickered.

"Yeah, I know." Kriss grinned. "So, when are we scheduling the Lurkers' Union's first protest against the internment camps?"

At that, more people started paying attention to them. Merka could have sworn she saw Alfred and Arthur leaning in as well. _No, stop fangirling! We must be heroic revolutionaries before we can be fangirls!_

"Next week after finals seems like a good time," she said after a moment of deliberation. "What do the rest of you think?"

"I'm fine with that," Carolina Brown replied.

"Sure, sign me up," Sara Parker said with a grin. "Will we get to sneak into the Staff Section?"

"I think it's better if we don't bother with sneaking and just march up in protest," Emmanuella pointed out.

"It gets the message across better, yeah," Karin Guarez agreed.

"Who's making signs?" Hotaru wondered.

Merka got out a sheet of paper. "Wait, wait. Let's write everything down. Are we going to have a rescue attempt along with this protest?"

"Well, then, the sneakiest of us must go on that rescue mission!" Karen DuLay declared. She had been disappointed at Ludwig postponing the Winter Survival Seminar until January, but she had made up for that disappointment by baking more cookies (which had all burnt when Gestapo Ludwig had marched through bickering with his modern counterpart – two Ludwigs in one kitchen was too much for her hormones).

"That's not going to be you, if we encounter any Ludwigs along the way," Kiri Olaveja snapped.

"You're one to talk!" Karen retorted.

"I nominate Kriss as head for the rescue operations," Charlie Tenterden (who had, according to rumour, locked Andrew Ho out of their room so that he could cry about Mr. Hugh. Fanboys could sometimes be worse than fangirls) sniffled. "She's good at those lurking sorts of things."

"That's cheerful," Kriss remarked. "Merka, you'll be fine handling the protests?"

"Yes," Merka replied, nodding. "All right, then, members of the Lurkers' Union should probably... sign up for whichever event they're participating in."

Immediately, the others swamped their desks.

* * *

Workbitch looked gravely at Florance from across the table. They were sitting in Workbitch's room, with Shinbun-kun resting against the doorframe with his reporter's notebook.

"We have to look into this matter regarding the hospital staff, because I don't think that the disappearance of the Mary Sue and the destruction of the antidote to Aura of Smooth are two completely unrelated events," Workbitch said, pointing to the schedule in the middle of the table. "After all, the antidote was destroyed within the week that Mr. Allen received news of the Mary Sue's disappearance."

"Only hospital wing staff members know where the antidote is stored," Florance pitched in. "Shall we reinvestigate the hospital staff?"

"I don't trust the tribunal," Workbitch replied shortly. "I think we could pinpoint the culprit by using the schedule here."

"We have to thank you," Shinbun added, "for keeping such meticulous records."

"Exactly. Look here. Tuesday night, Mr. Allen heard that the Mary Sue escaped. Monday afternoon was the last time a hospital staff member entered the conservatory."

"Takara," Florance breathed. "She fetched us leaves from that plant with Bled spots."

"Exactly," Workbitch said. "She was the last hospital staff member in the conservatory, and you said that only the hospital staff members know where the antidote is stored."

"It does add up, but the tribunal _did_ find her innocent, too," Florance murmured. "And what motives would she have for doing all of this?"

"She's been acting more... outgoing... as of late," Shinbun noted. "Mr. Allen has been in Hugh mode for almost a week."

"That's the strange part. He ordered all of these arrests," Workbitch mused. "But he sometimes tells me that he hates the internment camps. How..."

"Aura of Smooth," Florance replied immediately. "Takara likes Mr. Hugh. She could be using the Aura to catch his attention, which explains why the antidote was destroyed."

"So...she's controlling him with _that_?" Workbitch demanded, bristling.

"But she's... so innocent!" Shinbun exclaimed. "She's too naïve!"

"I agree with that," Florance sighed. "This is why I doubt her guilt. Do you know why she's here at IAHF in the first place?"

Shinbun and Workbitch frowned. "Why?"

Florance clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. "The hospital staff members are mostly misspelled historical figures. That you know. However, there is no nurse named Takara, or anywhere near that name, in known history. Takara is an orphan who we hospital staff took pity on in the early days of IAHF. She came to us in late August as a bit character."

Workbitch and Shinbun looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

* * *

Takara shuddered as she began cutting roots. She detested handling knives, because she was always scared of cutting herself. Grimacing, she brought the knife down – once, twice.

The Aura surrounded her, controlled her. Each cut was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Perfect like her –

"Ouch!" Takara screamed, dropping the knife onto the table and sucking gingerly at her thumb. When she looked at the cut, she noticed something strange.

"What's wrong with my blood?" she gasped. There were little particles of Glitter in the red liquid that had already started to trickle out. "What's going on?"

She bandaged the thumb, frowning. Glitter in the bloodstream could mean only one thing.

_I said you'd become a Mary Sue_, her conscience sneered.

"I'm dead," she replied.


	24. J'accuse

**Notes:** Apologies for the lateness, but a certain fanfic website was not letting me access the 'edit story' option...

**

* * *

Part XXIV**

"J'accuse!" Francis Bonnefois declared dramatically in French class on Monday, finals week. The language classes were scheduled to continue next semester, so Francis hadn't bothered to create an exam. "Can anyone tell me what that means?"

"It means 'I accuse'," Merka replied.

"Parfait. 'J'accuse' is also a letter written by novelist Émile Zola that pointed out the government's shortcomings in the Dreyfus Affair. In the current situation, I found this fitting for us to read today."

"But we don't know enough French…" Roksana whispered.

"Pooh-pooh! We shall explain it after we read it!" Francis replied, opening up the textbook and beginning to read.

Most of the words flew over Merka's head as the Frenchman read, but she could tell by his expression that the writer was passionate about his topic – that whatever the French government had been doing during the Dreyfus affair was a serious miscarriage of justice and that the writer was pointing it out bluntly and ferociously.

"_J'accuse enfin le premier conseil de guerre d'avoir violé le droit, en condamnant un accusé sur une pièce restée secrète, et j'accuse le second conseil de guerre d'avoir couvert cette illégalité, par ordre, en commettant à son tour le crime juridique d'acquitter sciemment un coupable_." Francis looked up at them, his blue eyes grave. "This is the important part of his letter – the parts where he repeats the words 'I accuse'. What is he saying?"

"Well... 'le droit' means 'the law'," Merka began to say. "And I think I heard the words 'secret' and 'illegal'..."

"You're getting to it, yes," Francis sighed. "Who is Zola accusing?"

"The... first council... of war," Arianna Borrel mumbled. "Right?"

"Correct," Francis replied. "And 'violer' means 'to violate', so he is accusing them of violating the law. Can anyone tell me why the French government was violating the law? It has something to do with the words 'secret' and 'accused'."

"By... uh..." Roksana frowned, looking down at her copy of the letter. "By... condemning the accused... on a piece resting secretly?"

"Close." Francis nodded. "They condemned the accused on secret evidence."

Merka bit her lower lip. "That_ does_ sound like the current situation," she remarked.

"Je sais." Francis sighed. "There's more to this, though. Zola finishes acknowledging that he could – and would – be punished for writing this letter. Did he care about that? Non. By writing 'J'accuse', Zola made it apparent to the public just how messed up the entire Dreyfus Affair was. He voiced many peoples' suspicions – he put his own life on the line to express his discontent. Do you understand why I read you this letter?"

The class nodded.

"Bien, bien. For homework, write me a paragraph on the current situation of IAHF using Zola's 'J'accuse' as a model. Ecrivez-le en français – you may refer to dictionaries if you must. Class dismissed."

* * *

"So, how is life in the internment camps?" Shinbun asked, scribbling away at his reporter's notebook.

"Boring," Megan said immediately. "Well, there's nothing to do."

"Which makes it more annoying," Lucia croaked, "since we have nothing to do. We're innocent, and yet we're being isolated and watched."

"Okay," Shinbun mumbled. "Anyone else got something to contribute?"

"We're hoping that someone's going to realise that the entire system's fucked up and release us, or someone's going to rescue us," Loki replied helpfully.

"Thank you," the reporter said. "Why do you think you were imprisoned?"

"They thought I was a Mary Sue," Sakura said immediately.

"I'm too perfect," Sabrina intoned sarcastically, nickering. "Well, I'm part-unicorn…" she added in a more serious voice.

"I'm the personification of a brigade," Ema replied.

"I knew too much," Jennifer whispered.

Shinbun looked over at her. "Oh, right, I was about to ask you about your farce of a trial. What do you think about the judgement?"

"McCarthy Alfred can go die in a hole," Jennifer snapped grouchily. Her irritableness was partly because of her imprisonment and partly because of her period.

"Is that on the record?" Shinbun wondered.

"All of this is on the record, Shinbun, but remember, don't print our names." Jennifer crossed her legs and raised both eyebrows. "You got that?"

Shinbun saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Arthur was sitting at his desk, making last-minute changes to the Platonic Love exam, when the door to his bedroom burst open and Francis came running in.

"What do you want, Frog?" Arthur snapped, barely looking up from his work.

"They're after me, l'Angleterre. You've got to hide me."

"Why would I hide you? If the police caught you attempting to molest –"

"No! It's the secret police!" That got Arthur out of his seat.

"Hide in the damn closet, you bastard!" he hissed as he slammed the door behind Francis. Already, the sound of footsteps could be heard down the hallway. "Quickly!"

Francis dove into the closet and pretended to be one of Arthur's suits.

_Bang, bang._ Someone was pounding on Arthur's door. Arthur glared at Francis, motioning him to close the closet door. As he did, Arthur poked his head out of his door and glared at DSGE Francis and CIA Alfred.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Actually, it's '_who_ do we want'," DGSE Francis explained, and shoved a warrant in the Briton's face. "This man. Francis Bonnefois."

"Why, aren't _you_ Francis Bonnefois?" Arthur asked, feigning stupidity. "Surely you can't just turn _yourself_ in?" Inside the closet, Francis sniggered. "Shut up, Angelterre!" Arthur barked, turning around. He then turned back to the secret police. "So?"

"We're here for this particular Francis," CIA Alfred explained, pointing to the photo. "He wears the World War One French military uniform."

"Well, he's not here. Why would I hide him? He's my rival," Arthur snapped, crossing his arms.

"We saw him run into your room," DGSE Francis pointed out. "He's wanted for criticising the tribunal and for teaching the students seditious ideas."

Arthur snorted. "You wanna know what I think of that?" he demanded, grabbing the warrant. "I think it's absolute _bullshit_! Fuck you and your warrant!" Saying that he ripped the warrant in half. "Now _sod off_!"

"Mr. Kirkland, we will have to place you under arrest and search your room –" DGSE Francis began to say, but suddenly he contorted in pain and collapsed. CIA Alfred screamed but followed suit. Frowning, Arthur looked up to see Tony standing on a hovering platform.

"Thanks," the Briton said, nodding.

"You owe me one, fucking limey," Tony grumbled, pocketing a futuristic ray gun and snapping his fingers. The unconscious forms of DGSE Francis and CIA Alfred floated onto the platform. "You owe me _big-time_."

"I'll take care to remember that," Arthur muttered, re-entering his room and opening the closet.

Francis stumbled out, face pale. "Merci, l'Angleterre," he gasped.

Arthur grimaced and shoved the ripped warrant into Francis's hands. "And _you_, Monsieur Grenouille, owe _me_ one."

Francis chuckled sheepishly. "Je sais," he replied.

* * *

"Canon 101 continues into next semester," Ludwig snapped on Tuesday morning, "so we will have a cumulative test today to see how much you have learned. Failure to pass equates to a month's worth of lice duty with the Hong Kongese."

The students looked at each other fearfully. The Hong Kongese was a set of very bad-tempered Pekingese dogs whose coats were always full of lice. Already, Mirabelle had experienced a week of lice duty with them and came back with horror stories. No one wanted that job.

"You will have the entire period to do this test," Kiku added. "Feli-kun, please wake up and help me distribute the exams."

Feliciano popped up and began handing out tests. "Oh, if you cheat, Big Brother Spain has asked me to deliver you to him for battleaxe target practice. He says he's rusty and needs the practice."

More fearful looks. Merka couldn't help but smile at how evil the Staff still was to the students, despite their mutual hatred for the internment camps and investigation.

"Good luck," Ludwig said as soon as the tests were out. "You'll need it."

Merka looked down at her paper.

_List the discrepancies between the historical and canonical accounts of the Tripartite Pact._

_Why did France attempt to marry England in 1956? Why was the union unsuccessful?_

_What is Finland's annual job?_

_Historically, who is the person who came with America on the Black Ships?_

On and on the questions continued. Looking at the clock, Merka groaned to herself and began to write.

* * *

"My brain hurts," Natashia Fernandez complained at dinner, narrowly avoiding being hit by a piece of fish. Seychelles had been cooking, so the EngSey shippers were smacking the FrSey shippers with fish while everyone else who hated Seychelles sat around and avoided being hit by scales.

"Tell me about it," Alexandria Peterson whined, ducking as a swordfish went flying through the air. "What was the answer to that one about France and England's failed marriage?"

Natashia grinned. "Oh, that was the Suez Crisis of 1956. It wasn't successful because England rejected the proposal."

"And who was the guy with America on the Black Ships, anyways?" Yuki-rin demanded.

Natashia frowned. "I forgot," she said.

"It's Commodore Perry," Kriss snapped from the Asia table.

"Wait, what? I guessed Howard the Spy," Hotaru complained from the North America table.

"Well, they said _historically_," Kriss pointed out.

"Damn it!" Hotaru slammed her head onto the table.

"Finland's annual job _is_ being Santa Claus, right?" Yuki-rin asked hesitantly. "I don't know. I was too busy thinking about Sweden…"

"You're hopeless," sniffed Carolina Brown as she walked by. "I hope I got all the discrepancies right," she added to Tori Troutman as they got their drinks, "between history and Hetalia canon for the Tripartite Pact."

"Honestly, all I could think about was that the Pact was signed in Berlin, not at Japan's house, so there was no kotatsu available," Tori admitted.

"Well, I also put down that the pact was named Roberto by the Italian press, and that Hungary, Romania, Slovakia, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, and Croatia joined it later. Also, Thailand and Manchukuo joined."

"Did you know," Anastasia Debby said abruptly as they took their seats at the Australian table, "that China was technically supposed to be in the Axis? The Reorganised Government of Manchuria signed the Tripartite Pact as well."

"Well, France was occupied as well, so France should have been in the Axis as well," Tori pointed out.

"Both were just occupied Nations," Carolina replied thoughtfully. "So if you're going to be technical, then China and France in Hetalia should have been double agents between the Axis and Allies."

At that moment, Franklin Mycroft Livingston ran out of the room, yelling something about allergies to fish. Carolina looked worriedly after him, ignoring Tori's snickers.

"Allergic reactions, again," Anastasia Debby sighed. "He's hopeless."

"You shouldn't say that," Carolina murmured.

* * *

**New Investigation Reveals Truth Behind Halloween Bombings**

_The new investigation into the Halloween bombings, led by Secretary Workbitch Bartholomew and Nurse Florance Nightingail, is pointing the finger at a new target. Prior investigations by Staff members Sadiq Adnan and Heracles Karpusi, not to mention Bled Pinjas Arthur Kirkland and Kiku Honda, have inadvertently led to the unlawful detainment of innocent students._

"_It's true that the students in question signed away their rights upon attending this school," says Bartholomew, "but that doesn't mean that they should be placed in internment camps like prisoners of war."_

_The internment camp, located fifty kilometres due north of Auchwits, is basically a subterranean prison where inmates are locked up like animals in cages and watched like Oceanian residents in George Orwell's _1984.

"_We're innocent," says one of the students, "and yet we're being isolated and watched."_

_However, these students are hopeful that they will be released soon, by either indictment or revolution. Their peers (all students have chosen to remain anonymous for security concerns) are organising a revolt this Friday after their finals._

"_It's going to be great," says one of the leaders. "We're going to petition the tribunal and Mr. Allen for a redress of our grievances."_

_There are also plans for a rescue attempt by members of the same student organisation. Both the protest and the rescue will take place at the same time, and all Staff members who wish to see the tribunal brought down are encouraged to join._

"_All of this is a blatant arse-in-the-face to human rights," says Staff member Arthur Kirkland. "Had there been any reason to detain those students, I would have supported my colleagues. But this mindless imprisonment and relentless pursuit of dissidents is simply wrong and brings back bad memories. No modern Nation wants this on his or her conscience."_

_At the same time as the protest, the new investigation has perused schedules and files, chasing down their culprit. According to Nightingail, only hospital staff members know where the antidote to Aura of Smooth had been stored. In conjunction with other records, the last hospital staff member to enter the conservatory before the Mary Sue's escape was a nurse named Takara._

"_She had always been a quiet little one, you know?" says nurse Clara Bartan. "Very innocent and clumsy, always mixing things up. Now she's doing everything perfectly and has even caught the affections of the Course Coordinator – so I'm suspecting her, yes."_

_All of the evidence gathered so far points to nurse Takara. She had been immediately found innocent by the tribunal, she had suddenly developed 'curves in all the right places', she had inexplicably moved into Mr. Allen's quarters – all of that suggests deliberate use of Aura of Smooth, which is a Class A Forbidden Substance at IAHF._

"_We don't have physical evidence that she is using the Aura, but everything else tells us that she is," says Nightingail. "So far, her charges are adding up to high treason against this Academy and the Hetalia canon."_

_Takara's crimes against canon are slowly piling up; Bartholomew says that she could be convicted of treason, character mangling, giving aid to known enemies of the Academy, causing undue distress amongst the Staff and students, and acting like a Mary Sue. He and Nightingail intend to bring Takara before the International Court of Justice, even if she confesses._

"_Plea bargaining is forbidden for felonies like this, and I for one will not rest until she is deported," says he. "She has sent us all on a wild goose chase, and personally I believe she is singlehandedly responsible for our current situation."_

* * *

"The Reign of Terror was the period between June 1793 and July 1794, where forty thousand people were executed by guillotine and three hundred thousand people were imprisoned. It all began when counter-revolutions broke out due to objections to 'levée en masse', or conscription. The National Convention set up the Committee of Public Safety, which was soon headed by Maximilien Robespierre, also known as the Incorruptible. The government adopted the French Constitution of 1793, but it was suspended by the decree of October, which stated that France's government would be revolutionary until peace.

"Robespierre famously said that terror flows from virtue and that a revolutionary government is the 'despotism of liberty against tyranny'. The National Convention seized grain from farmers and authorised charging counter-revolutionaries with 'crimes against liberty'. In an early form of Communism, the National Convention fixed the prices of grain and bread as well as the wages of workers. The guillotine was used to silence people suspected of even the pettiest crimes against the government."

The students watched Ivan talk, wondering if he was going to be the next target of the secret police. Already, news had spread that Francis and Shinbun were in hiding from the secret police, which had expanded to include Gestapo Ludwig, SIM Feliciano, Mafia Lovino, and Kempeitai Kiku. Kriss and Merka exchanged worried glances; some of the Ivan fangirls were sobbing quietly in their seats.

"Throughout this time, the majority of victims came from the workers and peasants, who were accused of hoarding, evading the draft, deserting, rebelling, and sometimes even harbouring clergy members. The Convention attempted to dechristianise France by installing a new calendar and abolishing all forms of Christianity. All of this, coupled with repression and uncertainty of life, led to the Terror's downfall. Robespierre, insistent on associating terror with virtue, ended up equating the idea of a morally united patriotic country with bloodshed. He was overthrown on the ninth of Thermidor, which roughly equals 27 July. On the tenth, he, too, was executed by guillotine."

Ivan paused after that, and frowned. "Now the term 'Thermidor' is used to describe revolutionary movements where a radical regime loses power to a conservative regime, and the result is no better than the original regime that the radicals overthrew. Leon Trotsky even described the post-revolution bureaucracy of Joseph Stalin as the Soviet Thermidor."

"Ivan?" Jodie Smith asked suddenly.

"What is it?" Ivan asked, with an expression hovering between a leer and a smile.

"You know what happened to Francis and Shinbun, right? Don't let that happen to you."

Ivan cackled. "Oh, I'll make sure it doesn't," he replied cheerily, twirling his water pipe.

The students took that as a good enough indicator that he wouldn't share the same fate as the others.


	25. A Trial, a Mob, and a Rescue Operation

**Notes:** And first semester ends here! New students arrive next chapter.

I also apologise to any law students out there for butchering the judicial system with Takara's trial.

* * *

**Part XXV**

"The court is now in session. Order!" Holy Roman Empire declared loudly as he stood on a stool in the courtroom. Switzerland, Belgium, and Tibet entered the room in black robes – well, Switzerland and Belgium did. Tibet was wearing his Buddhist monk robes as always. "All rise for the honourable Vash Zwingli, Belgium, and Tibet presiding."

"Be seated," Vash snapped as soon as he had reached his seat. All three of them bowed slightly before seating themselves. Tibet was in meditative calm, as always, turning a level eye at the defendant.

Takara sat nervously in her seat, the Aura of Smooth phial hidden in her coat pocket as usual. Francis was acting as her defence attorney, and he regarded her with obvious disdain. She fought down the urge to cry.

"The defendant stands accused of high treason against this Academy – helping known enemies of this Academy to refuge, employing illegal means to bend officials at this Academy to her will, causing distress to students and Staff alike with the internment camps and secret police, and generally acting like a Mary Sue," Holy Roman Empire read, looking up and glaring at Takara.

"How do you plead?" Belgium asked.

"Not guilty due to insanity and influence from outside factors – namely, the Mary Sue," Francis said immediately, his face expressionless. His eyes, however, glinted harshly at Takara as he spoke.

"And what does the prosecution say to this?" Vash asked, looking over at Workbitch and Florance.

"Your honour," Workbitch said immediately, "Miss Takara acted out of her own free will. Mary Sues are the Multiverse's biggest supplier of Aura of Smooth. She must have agreed to help the Mary Sue in return for the Aura of Smooth – which, I may add, is a forbidden substance here."

The jury started whispering amongst themselves. Takara's right hand slipped into her coat pocket, fingering the phial.

"Call up the first witness," Tibet said serenely.

Holy Roman Empire frowned, looking at the list. Finally, he called, "Mr. Allen!" at the top of his voice, and Mr. Allen got up and walked to the witness stand.

* * *

The Platonic Love final was probably the only test that everyone studied for. As Merka would say afterwards, they studied only because "Alfred and Artie blackmailed us into it by being so damn adorable".

"How do you think you did?" Kriss asked as they left the classroom to go to lunch. Outside, the world was covered in white. Inside, Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanza decorations hung everywhere. The Nations had chosen to be politically correct, so they had decorated for all three holidays. However, they were only holding a Christmas party, which was scheduled for the twenty-fourth. Today was the sixteenth.

"Not bad," Merka said, shrugging as she took her seat at the North American table. "Protest's tomorrow! I can't wait!"

"I've got the signs ready," Hotaru added. "We'll take them with us to the Geography finals tomorrow and from there we just head directly to the Staff Section, correct?"

"Yes," Merka said. "Now shush, I need to study for Mythology finals."

Eva Danielson walked by with her Mythology textbook, looking slightly disgruntled. "What's the difference between the Leanan Sídhe and the Bean Sídhe?" she asked loudly.

"One of them is a muse and the other's a banshee," Emmanuella Escatara called from her table.

"The Bean Sídhe is uglier, since she's the banshee," Mitsuki Horenake added. "The Leanan Sídhe inspires poets and artists and takes them as her lovers – but they die young."

"Okay, what about… can anyone tell me what the Wolpertinger is?"

"It's like Ludwig's idea of Flying Mint Bunny," Kiri Olaveja replied. "It's basically a rabbit with antlers and wings. The American Jackalope was probably inspired by it, and it's like the Thuringian Rasselbock and Swedish Skvader."

"Cool story, bro. Um, what do the Dryad, the Kodama, the Ghillie Dhu, and the Waldgeist have in common?"

"They're all guardians of trees and the forest in general," Tori Troutman said immediately. "The Dryad is Greek, the Kodama is Japanese, the Ghillie Dhu is Scottish, and the Waldgeist is German."

Eva frowned. "Fine. What's the significance of Gog and Magog?"

That got some people quiet. "Er, I think they're mentioned in just about everything," Franklin Livingston answered. "Like… they're in the Hebrew Bible, and they're part of Christian, Jewish, and Islamic tradition. They're also in English, Irish, and Greek mythology, and mentioned in Napoleon's Russian invasion, Alexander the Great's conquests, and Marco Polo's travels."

"They're also the names of two china dogs in _Anne of Ingleside_," Sara Parker pointed out helpfully. "Don't ask me how I know."

"Well_, Anne of Ingleside_'s Canadian…" Merka suggested, grinning wickedly.

* * *

"Mr. Allen, can you state, in your own words, what happened to you between now and Monday, 22 November?" Workbitch was doing the interrogation, watching Mr. Allen's every fidget.

"Well, that goes back for a while," Mr. Allen mumbled, looking thoughtful as he leaned against the witness stand. "I remember ordering the investigation that Monday, and then I went to check on Florance's supply check. When I was at the hospital wing, I couldn't help but notice that Takara was looking very nice that day."

"And then what happened? When did you start falling for her?"

"Somewhere along the lines of that Wednesday," Mr. Allen replied, looking at the jury. There were twelve jury members – Liechtenstein, Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, Lithuania, Germania-Sword, Mongolia, Vietnam, Thailand, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Canada. All of them (except Germania-Sword, who lacked opposable thumbs – well, fingers in general) were taking notes, scrutinising him as they went. Mr. Allen coughed slightly. "I don't remember events as sharply as Mr. Hugh remembers them, since he was the direct recipient of Miss Takara's affections. All I know is that somehow, we started acting according to her wishes."

"Can you give us any specific actions that she influenced?"

"Well, originally I wasn't going to order the imprisonment of the non-human students. She said something about Mary Sues being inhuman, and I seemed to have misinterpreted that."

"So you admit that you acted under her influence?" Workbitch asked.

"Yes, well, at least for most of this," Mr. Allen replied.

"Any questions, Mr. Bonnefois?" Belgium asked. Francis, who had been instructing Rose Kirkland (Arthur's genderbent counterpart was the court reporter) on the proper way to spell his name, looked up and nodded.

"Yes, uh… Mr. Allen." The Frenchman winked at Rose and stood up. "Did Takara always look confident during your time together, or has she sometimes expressed fear and uncertainty?"

"Yes, usually at night," Mr. Allen replied.

"Are you aware that Aura of Smooth is ineffective at night?"

"Yes."

"So, are you aware that the Takara you see at night is the true Takara, without influence by Aura of Smooth?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that a fearful, uncertain Takara is likely to have caused all of this?"

Mr. Allen shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Do you admit, then, that your relationship with her has been more physical than emotional?"

"Pretty much, I'm afraid," Mr. Allen replied.

Takara watched Mr. Allen answer the rest of Francis's questions. Physical. It was true; their relationship had been physical. Still, the way he readily agreed broke her heart. Now he was testifying against her in court.

"Can you give me, specifically, one instance where you caught her in a vulnerable state?"

"There was this one time on a Tuesday evening when I heard her crying. She was talking to herself."

Francis smirked. "Do you know why she talks to herself?"

"No."

* * *

The Mythology final took place rather smoothly, considering that Denmark burst in halfway through, yelling something about a trial and that Norway should go watch.

"I'll watch the trial later," Norway snapped, not even looking up from the desk. "I've got a test to proctor, and they won't be reading the verdict until night-time."

"A trial?" Rachael Wilkison demanded, looking up from her test.

"Nothing to worry yourself about," Norway said immediately.

"Really? I'd think that a trial for the person who helped the Mary Sue escape is relevant to student interests," Denmark pointed out. That caused most students to look up eagerly.

"They caught the Mary Sue's helper?" Tori Troutman demanded.

"Yes, she's being tried," Norway replied, glaring at Denmark.

"I hope they convict her!" Lydia whispered anxiously. She had shadows under her eyes from nights when she couldn't sleep out of worry about those others in the internment camps – and about the possibility of her being next.

"Well, obviously you haven't read the _Bled Chronicles_," asserted Franklin. "She's definitely going to be convicted."

"Not everyone agrees with the _Bled Chronicles_, you know," Denmark pointed out. "That's one of the consequences of a free press – people are bound to think he's bullshitting."

"I don't think he'd bullshit about something this serious," Norway replied calmly. "Now please get out of my classroom so the students can take their exams."

Denmark complied, grumbling something about Norway being a 'stick in the snowball' as he went.

* * *

"Call up the next witness," Vash barked, so Holy Roman Empire squinted at his list accordingly.

"The court calls Clara Bartan to the witness stand," he said after a moment.

Clara walked up to the witness stand, her eyes downcast. She refused to make eye contact with Takara as she passed.

"Raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" Holy Roman Empire asked.

"I do," Clara replied primly. As she took her spot at the witness stand, Workbitch stood up again.

"Can you describe in your own words, Ms. Bartan, what happened to you between now and Monday, 22 November?" the secretary-turned-attorney asked imperiously, placing both hands on his hips.

"Strange… interruptions in my thought process," the nurse replied. "It happened every time I was around Takara. I would inexplicably lose my train of thought and begin to think about her. Everything had to be about her."

"Did you have suspicions regarding this phenomenon, or did you just brush it off?"

"I tried to pretend like it was completely natural, but I thought about her behaviour later… and I never really had any solid hypotheses, but I did consider possession."

"Have you ever seen any phials of some sort of liquid in her possession?"

"I might have seen a little one occasionally that she takes with her everywhere she goes, but I thought that it was just some… sort of religious artefact or something. You know, like holy water or something."

Takara looked at her hands, curling and uncurling them experimentally. Once again, her conscience was browbeating her. _Confess. Confess, you Mary Sue._

"No," she muttered to herself.

_You'll be found guilty anyways. Why don't you just testify against yourself or something and clear your conscience while you're at it?_

"No!"

"Does the defendant have an objection?" Belgium asked calmly.

"Er…" Takara blushed, wanting to sink into the ground. "Um, not an objection, your Honour."

"Then what is it?" Belgium had the air of an annoyed parent whose child kept on asking the same question.

"I would like to offer a confession to the court." Takara had blurted it out before she knew what was going on and suddenly all eyes were on her.

"A confession?" echoed Belgium. "Are you sure about this?"

Takara nodded. There was no way out of it, was there? Now that everyone was looking…

"Ms. Bartan, you may leave," Vash said immediately. "The court now calls Takara to the witness stand."

* * *

"They didn't finish the trial yesterday," Merka reported right before the Geography finals. "In fact, they had to pause it before the defendant went to the witness stand, because Alfred and Ivan interrupted with a snowball fight."

The others stared. They had been caught up with all the drama that they forgot about Alfred and Ivan's tendencies to turn serious moments into steaming piles of … fail.

"A snowball fight?" echoed Yuki-rin. "You're being serious, right?"

"Absolutely cereal," Merka replied, flinging some Cheerios at Kriss. Several people facepalmed.

"You're too punny," Kriss deadpanned as she brushed Cherrios off her shirt. Merka grinned.

Elisabeta chose that moment to appear with the exams in her arms. Everyone watched her open the door and enter the classroom, followed by her Mochis.

"Gilbert and Roderich are not here today because they're too busy watching the trial," the Hungarian woman explained as she reached the podium. "So I've got twice as many Mochis prowling about. And as you all know, Hungry is always hungry for fangirls." She patted her fattest Mochi; it gave a loud and extremely rude belch. "That's my hungry Hungry," Elisabeta cooed.

"Disturbing little bugger," Kriss muttered. Almost as if it could hear her, Hungry glared at her.

"So," Elisabeta continued. "Today we're taking our Geography final! I expect you to be capable of naming all the countries on this map," she held up a map, "that the arrows point to."

The students breathed a sigh of relief – not even the Nerds could name every country on the map. There were, at most, _one hundred and ninety-five_ of them, after all. And South Sudan was about to become the one hundred and ninety-sixth.

"And then I expect you to answer this giant matching section, this giant multiple-choice section, and these ten short-response questions. Nothing less than a paragraph for each will be accepted."

The students started worrying again. Elisabeta smirked, handing out the tests. Everyone in the back immediately started cramming; everyone at the front immediately started praying.

"Put your notes away, people in the back," Elisabeta called as she handed out the last tests. "Good luck – judging by your panicked expressions, you'll need it."

And with that she swept down to her desk and took her seat, grinning evilly.

* * *

"Miss Takara, state your confession," Vash Zwingli snapped, glaring at her.

Takara shuffled her feet, looking out at the rest of the audience. "I did it," she said after a moment of staring. "I was the one who helped the Mary Sue."

Murmurs ran through the crowd. "Order in the court!" snapped Vash, banging the gavel.

"Yes, I was the one who helped the Mary Sue," Takara stated, blinking back tears, "who is better known as Alexandra Bonnefoy. She gave me a phial of Aura of Smooth in return for my help, and what could I do? I was desperate, your Honour, I wanted Mr. Hugh to pay attention to me for once."

The audience looked at each other, but dared not say anything lest they incur the wrath of Vash. Takara bit her lower lip, sniffling.

"So in a way, I consider myself guilty for… for taking the Aura and using it for my benefit only. But you also have to notice that I was manipulated into taking the Aura in the first place. Dealing with a Mary Sue means being influenced by her Aura. I… I regret what I've done… the damage…"

"Please, stop waxing melodramatic," Vash groaned, "and provide us with statements that we can match the evidence against."

"I think this is all the proof you'll need, then," Takara said, pulling the phial of Aura of Smooth. "This is the Aura of Smooth that I used on myself to make myself appealing, and here –" she pulled out a folder, "are the blood tests I ran on myself last week, after the article was published."

Workbitch took the phial and the folder from her and looked. "Litmus paper, Florance?" he asked, and Florance dipped a strip of light blue paper into the phial.

"Aura of Smooth," the nurse reported, holding up the now-sparkly-pink paper.

Workbitch was already rifling through the folders. "Your Glitter Levels have gone from 69 to 371?" he asked, frowning at the statistics. Francis snickered at the numbers, but a glare from Vash was enough to get him to shut up.

"If you want, you can cut open my arm and look at the Glitter," Takara retorted.

"No, that won't be necessary," Workbitch replied. "But all of this seems to match with our case, then. Your testimony that you did it to ensnare Mr. Hugh, your possession of the Aura of Smooth, and your Glitter Levels all point to your… 'Sueification. That, in turn, explains your sudden influence over Mr. Hugh and other side effects of your… transformation."

"Do you mean to say," Florance added, "that you led us all on a wild goose chase just so that you could sleep with Mr. Hugh? Taytay, you should've just _told_ us." As if in agreement, the entire audience pulled a facepalm. Except Germania-Sword, since he didn't have a face or a palm.

"How could I tell? All of you had relegated me as little more than cannon fodder in the hospital wing. I would've been laughed at for having a crush on the Course Coordinator."

"Who knows, Taytay?" Florance crossed her arms and sighed. "Judges, jury, you have the evidence."

Tibet nodded. "Yes, yes. Jury members. If you believe that Takara should be acquitted of her charges, then return the not guilty verdict. If you believe that she should be convicted of all charges, then return the guilty verdict. Please do your duty to this school."

The jury members looked at each other and filed out of the room.

* * *

The students gathered at the end of the test and marched down to the Staff Section, their banners and signs flying high. "Release our peers!" they chanted, as Kriss led several others along the side to look for another entrance into the Staff Section.

"The protest's starting!" Shinbun-kun exclaimed, taking Mary Seacull's hand and dragging her to the entrance.

"Come on!" Mary called to the other nurses who weren't at the trial.

"Release the students!" Janice cheered, although she turned into a blob halfway out the door. Picardy cackled and ran past her into the crowd, taking pictures and waving his own sign.

The Mochis looked at each other, and seemed to decide to go on strike as well. For what was probably first time in recorded Official Fanfiction University history, students swarmed the Staff Section in protest.

Meanwhile, Kriss and her fellow lurkers had ran into the Bled Pinjas. "Yeh lookin' fer a way t' th' 'ternment camps?" Pirate Arthur drawled, causing Kriss's knees to weaken. She nodded, blushing furiously.

Ninja Kiku quickly gave them directions in Japanese, causing the lurkers who knew the language to scramble to write the translated instructions on their arms. When the two of them walked off high-fiving each other (one of the 'newfangled' expressions they had picked up from Alfred), the lurkers looked at each other and jumped through the nearest open window.

They landed in a hallway right before a giant crack. "That's the shortcut?" Anastasia Debby hissed.

"Well, it's a rather gravity-reliant shortcut," Kriss pointed out. "Shall we find an elevator, then?"

"No, the instructions say to jump into this crack because it leads to Auchwits," Summer Elizabeth Smith said, looking at her hand. "And then we… turn… east or something like that…"

"North. It's due north of Auchwits," Franklin Livingston reminded.

"Shush, there's something coming," Kriss whispered.

There came the clatter of hooves, but nothing appeared.

"I think it's one of England's friends," Scylla whispered.

"Quick, jump!" Summer exclaimed, as the hooves picked up speed.

"But… what's there?" Anastasia demanded.

"An invisible unicorn that will gut you if you don't jump, damnit!" Kriss snapped, pushing everyone into the abyss.

The unicorn barely missed her.

* * *

The sounds of protest could be heard from the courtroom, and Takara's heart raced.

"The court will now come to order," Belgium instructed as the jury filed in, taking their seats without looking at Takara. "The jury will now give their verdict."

The noises of revolt neared, and Takara only half-listened to the jury – they were condemning her. She heard their voices as if they were underwater, as if she was in a nightmare and on the verge of waking up.

"Takara, this court hereby convicts you on all charges and condemns you to death –"

"Your Honour, may I suggest a different punishment?" Florance interrupted suddenly. Vash goggled at her, his hand halfway to the gavel.

"And why would you suggest this?" the Swiss man asked suspiciously.

"She is guilty of all charges, yes, but you also have to take into account her original case. She claimed innocence on the grounds of insanity and deception. Mary Sues deal in deception, your Honour, and since Takara was acting partly under the influence of Alexandra Bonnefoy, I do not believe she deserves death for being stupid."

"So, then what do you propose?" Belgium asked.

"Deportation to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum Headquarters, where she will be sent through personality dialysis and No-Drool video therapy." At that, several of the looser Nations cringed. No-Drool videos were infamous – and effective. After Arthur had forced Francis to watch one in early September, the Frenchman had found it harder to… perform. "And if you're unsure, look at the Nations that shudder in horror at the prospect of No-Drool videos. Personality dialysis, especially for Mary Sues, is ten times worse. I think this punishment doesn't let her off easily."

"But she can be tempted to betray secrets for love again," Vash snapped.

"Fangirl therapy at the PPC is extremely effective," Florance replied calmly. "And besides, removing Takara from the picture does not remove the threat of a Mary Sue attack. The damage has been done. We hospital staff will need all the assistance we can get if they do attack, and killing a nurse or a doctor is like shooting yourself in the foot – and there won't be anyone to bandage said foot afterwards."

Vash heaved a sigh. "Very well. I see your reasoning, Ms. Nightingail." He turned to Takara. "This court hereby sentences you to deportation to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum headquarters for No-Drool video therapy and personality dialysis."

_Bang_. The gavel slammed down, the sound echoing through the courtroom. Takara struggled to keep down tears, but her eyes suddenly widened in fear as the doors to the courtroom burst open and students, Staff members, and Mochis swarmed in, brandishing signs and screaming abuse at her.

"Down with the 'Sue!" they yelled. "Down with the 'Sue!"

"It's turned into a mob," Francis breathed, as the Mochis stacked on top of each other, all of them glaring at Takara as if ready to blob her. "This protest has turned into a mob."

"Nurse Takara! Where are our classmates?" A girl screamed. "Where have you taken them, you heartless Mary Sue?"

Takara shook her head, covering her face with her hands as the tears started falling. "Quickly, we have to get her out of here before the mob tears her apart; I think someone stole Ukraine's pitchfork," Workbitch was saying to Florance, nodding his head in Takara's direction.

"Liberté! Egalité! Fraternité!" French Revolution Francis howled in anger, waving the French tricolour wildly. "Bring out the enemy of the Academy! Off with her head!"

"In a place of justice? No!" Vash jumped onto the table, pistol aimed for Francis. "This courtroom shall see no violence!"

"If you shoot, you'll be a hypocrite, Vash," Belgium snapped. Tibet was meditating, as usual.

Mr. Allen looked over at Takara, seeing her tear-streaked face vanish out a side door. Florance and Clara were rushing her away, and he would eventually fetch his Document of Character Deportation and use it for the first time –

"Off with her head! Off with her head!" The mob screamed, looking wildly for Takara in the courtroom. Mr. Allen left the room as people overturned desks and chairs and Rose Kirkland screamed about her records being tossed about in a paper war that seemed to be starting –

And then Alfred and Ivan returned with more snowballs, and all order was thrown out the window.

* * *

"It's got to be here, somewhere," Kriss hissed, peering around a corner. There seemed to be no Mochis in sight. They rounded the corner and saw a door.

"In here," Scylla whispered, walking up to the door. It was locked. "Goddamn it!"

"Shush, let me read the instructions," Summer exclaimed, squinting at her hand in the dimly lit passageway. "The door unlocks with... a password." She looked up. "That is so _Harry Potter_."

"Any clues about the password?" Kriss demanded.

"Well, not from Ninja Kiku. But my gut says it's something Hetalia-related."

"All right... so what are we supposed to yell? Francis is a pervert? Alfred is the Hero? Kiku has no emotions? What?"

"Unicorn! Uh, panjandrum! Pub, pub, pub and go! Fish and chips!"

"Am I Catholic or Protestant?"

"Dumbledora the Explorer!"

"Holy Roman Empire, it's Flying Mint Bunny!"

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?"

"Yes, no, we're out of bananas!"

"Herr Shtick!"

"Just open, damn you!" Kriss kicked the door and glared at the doorknob as if it was insulting her. "Fuckin' Open Sesame! _Alohomora_!"

"We should've asked Laurel Martin to come along!" Scylla complained.

"I have an idea," Summer said suddenly, looking at her hand. "Ninja Kiku must have planned out the instructions!"

"And how is that an idea?" Franklin demanded.

"Well, just read it!" Summer thrust her hand out, and the other gathered around and tried to read the instructions.

_My instructions never fail to get people to their destinations, you know. Here are my tips to get to this camp._

_After diving in through that window, jump down the abyss that follows right after. It takes you to Auchwits._

_Right hands are sometimes wrong. Face the opposite wall and turn left; it'll take you east of Auchwits. _

_Underneath the sign that points to Auchwits, you will see something carved into the wood. It points right. Go right. _

_Kay, now turn left. Irrelevant instruction is irrelevant._

_After turning around in three circles, you might get a desire to kill me._

_I really have no other advice other than going on in the same direction. Left._

_Turn right again, and keep on going. Touch your toes occasionally, yes?_

_England's giving me the Look. I might have to speed this up. Sorry._

_Cameras are everywhere down here. Check to make sure you're not being followed._

_Hop over the little abyss within an abyss. Take care not to fall._

_If someone falls, they'll just end up at the nudist beach. Don't worry too much._

_Kawaii, desu ne? Yes, I am making fun of you weaboos. Get used to it._

_You should probably be at a corner by now. The camp is just up ahead._

_Ugh, now turn right one more time. _

_Unlock that door with a password. Congratulations._

"Wait a moment; is this how he presented it? It was all going over my head," Kriss whispered.

"Yeah, he said 'put this in a new line' in between each instruction," Summer whispered back.

"Look what it spells out," Anastasia Debby exclaimed. "Marukaite Chikyuu!"

"But whose?" Franklin wondered.

"Probably the first one – North Italy's," Scylla reasoned. "All right, on the count of three, then?" Everyone nodded. "One, two, three!"

"Nee nee papa, wain choudai! Nee nee mama, nee nee mama! Mukashi ne tabeta boroneeze no, ano aji ga wasurerarenainda! Marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, boku Hetalia! Marukaite chikyuu, jitto mite chikyuu, hyotto shite chikyuu, boku Hetalia! Aa, hitofude de, mieru subarashii sekai! Nagagutsu de kanpai da, Hetalia!" the students sang. Some were slightly sharp, others were slightly flat, and Franklin Livingston was obviously tone deaf.

Nevertheless, it opened the door…

"Wait, what?" Kriss exclaimed.

There were no half-unicorns, vampires, aliens, ninjas, Shadow demons, mermaids, cat-girls, brigades, or students who knew too much anywhere in sight. Instead, sitting in the cells were McCarthy era Alfred, Spanish Inquisition Antonio, and the secret police.

"What happened? Where did you take them?" Anastasia demanded, walking up to McCarthy era Alfred's cell and rattling the bars.

"Don't do that!" the American snapped irritably, twitching. "They're gone."

"Gone!" echoed Kriss.

"Yes. They have been pardoned," Kempeitai Kiku stated calmly from his cell. "No need to worry."

"Pardoned!" exclaimed Scylla.

"But we were going to rescue them!" Summer complained.

"They should be returned to the student section by now," KGB Ivan chipped in from his cell.

Franklin, who had been doing a quick head count, frowned suddenly. "Wait a moment. Where are DGSE Francis and CIA Alfred?"

"With the alien," MI6 Arthur replied bitterly. "Learning how to copy papers, I suspect."

Kriss burst into giggles. "This," she snickered, "is such an anticlimactic moment. I can't believe we fell down an abyss, followed an insane ninja's instructions, and sang Marukaite Chikyuu… just to see this. It's too much."

"I don't see what's so fucking funny about it," Mafia Lovino grumbled.

"I don't think you need to," Anastasia muttered. "Shall we go, then?"

"Yeah, let's see if we can find an elevator out of this," Kriss grumbled. Together, the students left the room.

* * *

"Megan! You're back!" Andrew Ho exclaimed, spinning the alien girl right round, baby right round.

"Andrew, you ho," Megan snickered. "Glad to see you, too."

"Where's Lucia?" Taylor Drews-Garcia asked.

"At the swimming pool."

"Wait, we have a swimming pool? Since when!"

Megan snickered. "It's a _hidden_ swimming pool. That's the point."

Merka snickered, but she sobered moments after. "Does anyone know what happened to Takara? I think I saw her in the courtroom during the protest – which seems to have been a success."

"Well, I think she's hooked up to a dialysis machine right now, screaming in pain as the machine violently removes Glitter from her bloodstream," a deadpan voice cut in.

"Jennifer!" Merka squealed. "How are you?"

"More fabulous than Feliks in a pink dress, yourself?" Jennifer broke out into a smile, hugging the other fangirl. "Everything's fine, I hope?"

"Kriss still hasn't returned from the Staff Section; I hope the Mochis haven't gotten to her…"

"No, I'm right here," Kriss's voice cut in. "You won't believe the shit that went down in our rescue plan. And it's all your fault," she added, directing the last part at the returned students.

"It's the thought that counts," Azure pointed out with a grin.

"I suppose," Kriss said with a shrug, before smiling at Merka and hugging her. The USUK fangirl looked taken back for a millisecond before hugging the Asakiku fangirl back, grinning into her shoulder.

"So, how did you guys get pardoned before we got to you?" Scylla asked Megan and Jennifer.

"Workbitch came down and issued the apology statement for Mr. Allen; Mr. Allen was busy deporting Takara," Megan replied. She paused for a moment. "What was that thing he told you, Jennifoos, before he let us to the elevators?"

Jennifer immediately turned scarlet. "Not telling you," she replied, crossing her arms.

"Come _on_!" Megan begged.

"Definitely not telling," Jennifer huffed, sticking her nose in the air.

"Fine, be that way, bitch," Megan grumbled, crossing her arms and turning away.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "He just said for me to meet him at the entrance to the Staff Section after the Christmas party; is that all right with you?" she snapped, the colour of her face rivalling that of the camellias that were currently by her bedside.

_Red camellias are a symbol of passion and fire. Meet me after the Christmas party; I have something to say._

–_W.B._

* * *

"Never again," Arthur Kirkland sighed as the remnants of the courtroom were cleared up. "Never, ever – never bloody fucking _ever_ again."

"You sound cheerful," Mr. Allen commented sarcastically as he walked past the Briton and banged the gavel on the judge's table. "All of you Staff members. I have something to say."

"Say it, then," Francis Bonnefois replied, pausing in his file ordering to look up.

"I am extremely sorry," Mr. Allen said, "for all of the trouble that this has brought you. If it helps, I can turn in a resignation as Course Coordinator –"

"Don't even _think_ about it," Gilbert Beilschmidt cut in. "That's totally not awesome. You've been an awesome Course Coordinator."

"That's nice of you to say, but this was an extreme mistake on my part, to have succumbed to the wiles of a Mary Sue."

"She had all of us for a moment there," Antonio Carriedo reasoned. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, but the point is that I should have been first to notice."

"You're technically one of us," Yekaterina Braginskaya pointed out. "Frankly, I'm not surprised."

"I'm still sorry," Mr. Allen replied, crossing his arms. "Really. I compromised the security that I was supposed to safeguard. An error of this degree –"

"Look, if we want to keep you as our Course Coordinator, then you're _staying_ as our Course Coordinator," Roderich Edelstein snapped. "How much clearer do we have to make it? You. Are. Staying."

Mr. Allen huffed and glared at them. "Fine, then. I'll stay."

"Good," Arthur growled. "We were dreading having to tie you up."

"I don't think _you_ were dreading it, l'Angleterre," Francis whispered, causing others to snicker.

"You pervert! I bet _you_ were anticipating it!" Arthur's face was bright red. "Bloody frog!"

"Can we not fight, please?" Liechtenstein called. Francis and Arthur obeyed, surprisingly.

"Thank you, Liechtenstein," sighed Mr. Allen. "Anyways, I would also like to point out the following about Mary Sues – hopefully, with this new experience with one, you all have discovered their power over us, right?"

"That they cause brain damage, sure," Alfred F. Jones said with a grin. Some of the other nations exchanged looks that clearly said 'and you still seem to be affected by it'.

"Yes, that, but did you also notice that Takara's story was no different from the tale of a Mary Sue and her creator? A Mary Sue is an idealised version of an author. Takara played both Sue and Suethor in that sense. She… had a crush on me… and made herself perfect in order to get me to notice her." Mr. Allen's eyes were grave. "This is the same with just about any other Mary Sue. An author uses a Mary Sue for vicarious living."

The Nations looked at each other, nodding.

"So… I think that… we need to remember Takara's mistakes, then. She wanted to make herself perfect just so she could… get to her Lust Object. She did, bringing our security down around our ears as she did so." Mr. Allen sighed. "Just… remember her mistakes."

Then he left the room, blue eyes downcast.

**END SEMESTER ONE**


	26. Fancy Seeing You

**The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction: Semester Two**

**Part I**

"There is something seriously wrong with this place."

That was an understatement, even on the most boring mornings at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction.

"Why don't we run this morning through the checklist?" Megan the alien asked, propping her chin on her arms. Next to her, her mermaid girlfriend Lucia Verdas giggled like a squirrel on helium. "Any stampedes?"

"Check," Hotaru yawned from across the North American table. The dining hall at IAHF had tables placed as if they were continents on a map – or at least, the students had started labelling the tables as that. The North American table was primarily the USUK table, but some non-USUKers (like Megan, who hated the pairing as much as she loved hanging with her friends who liked it) occasionally joined them.

"Where was it?" Jennifer Chang (or Lily, but no one ever called her that) asked curiously, clutching her mug of tea as if her life depended on it. Members of the Royal Society of Tea Drinkers tended to do that in the mornings.

"Just in front of the Italian Corridor," Hotaru replied, nodding in the direction of the dining hall doors. "Some of the America Adorers came across Chibimerica and his rabbit. It wasn't pretty."

"What happened to Chibimerica?" Merka Breigher demanded, popping up from her dozing on Kriss Kross (who was anti-USUK, but very pro-UKUS and Asakiku). "Was he harmed in any way? If I get my hands on those fangirls –"

"I'd be more worried about the America Adorers, if I were you," Hotaru replied. "They'll be scraping those poor girls off the walls for a week."

A shudder ran through the group. "Next item on the list, then," Megan said immediately. "Any attempts to sneak into the Staff Section?"

"Check," Loki Shadow Reave said, pausing by their table on her way to the buffet line. Breakfast was crumpets, porridge, and toast with marmalade; the England pairings were having their food fight at dinner later. "I heard Mitsuki Horenake tried to sneak into Feliciano's room. She's still trying to get bits of Itary out of her hair." The Shadow demon pointed across the room at Mitsuki, who was indeed pulling Mochi bits out of her black hair.

Mochi Nations guarded the Staff Section and its occupants. If provoked, it would take ages to get bits of them out of hair, clothing, and various exposed orifices. Jennifer had once gotten on Ingland's bad side, and had been unsuccessful for a week in pulling bits of the angry British Mochi out of her ears. It wasn't pretty.

"So we've got that. Any new Mochis?"

"Check – I think I saw a new Lithuania Mochi and a new Finland Mochi," Karen Elaine DuLay piped up as she walked past with a box. "Torris and Timo."

"What's in the box?" Kriss asked. "Not more cookies for Ludwig, I hope? We're up to what now… a hundred?"

"Ninety-nine," Karen replied proudly. "He'll see the light eventually."

The other girls looked at each other and shook their heads. The chances of Ludwig Beilschmidt seeing the light were about as likely as the chances of Feliciano Vargas renouncing pasta were.

"Fine, what about the last on the list?" Megan had taken out a laundry list and was crossing things off already. "Ivan and Alfred having some sort of competition?"

Everyone snorted. "Check," they all said in unison.

"I don't know how, but they somehow figured out that they should pull a leaf from your and Lucia's book and have a 'let's see who can make the most obnoxious sex noises' competition at two in the morning," Jennifer groaned, flicking a wary glance at Tori Troutman. The African-American girl had a tape recorder and was looking unnaturally gleeful.

"Was that what all the noise was about?" little Anita Khok asked from the Asia table. "I thought Alfred was getting tortured or something, what with all the screaming."

"Oh, I hope he and Arthur finally realised that their feelings for each other are far from platonic," Karin Guarez sighed happily. She usually sat with the Nerd Group at the Australia table, but today she had been in a very USUK mood for some reason.

"I don't think Alfred and Ivan were being serious, since they started insulting each other at four-thirty," Jennifer pointed out, as Megan started humming 'Ninety-Nine Nations Lined Up on the Wall'. This version of the traditional song about beer bottles was far more risqué.

"Megan, you know we don't want to suck any Nations off," Rachael Wilkison grumbled as she passed by, her cheeks bright scarlet.

"You're just in denial," Megan taunted, sticking her tongue out at the other girl.

"But seriously, though," Jennifer sighed, diverting the group's attention away from Megan's lewd suggestions. "There is something different happening. It's like… I think there are…"

The door opened and in came some unfamiliar faces. Well, largely unfamiliar. Two or three of the students recognised some of them.

"Oh my god, who let _you_ in here?" Karen gasped, ducking behind her fellow Ludwig fangirl Kiri Olaveja.

"Who are you talking about, Karen?" Kiri asked curiously.

"Him!" Karen raised a trembling hand, pointing to a little cherubic figure who was fluttering above the crowd and grinning wickedly. "Aloisio Guerra!"

"Why, you seem to have met your mortal fear," Kiri commented dryly. "Congratulations."

"Shut up and hide me!"

As Carolina Brown ran up and greeted a girl with dark green hair, Jennifer observed the group with a slight frown on her face. "New students, I suppose?" she asked Kriss, who nodded.

"Yeah, I guess," the Asakiku fangirl said with a shrug. "See anyone you recognise?"

Jennifer's frown deepened as she scrutinised the group. Emmanuella Escatara, who had a little horn on her head for jokingly putting down 'one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater' on her form, was greeting a boy who looked almost like her except with red eyes, short curly hair, and a rather strained expression on his face. Jennifer watched them for a moment, but then she noticed another boy standing awkwardly next to the curly-haired boy.

He had light hair, ruddy cheeks, and looked ridiculously familiar.

"Oh my fucking god, hide me," Jennifer hissed, diving under the table. Kriss frowned and peered underneath the table at her.

"Why? What's wrong with that boy? He looks British," Kriss's voice trailed off dreamily.

"He _is_ British," Jennifer replied shortly.

"How would you know?" Kriss wondered, eyes lighting up in interest.

"He's my ex."

* * *

Alexander Morris wasn't quite sure how he got in here. All he had been doing was getting high off sugar at his friend Vance's house, and now he was here at some random school.

Apparently, some bad-tempered English wanker named Arthur Kirkland (the name rang a bell, but Alexander really had no idea why) had showed up at midnight with a disapproving scowl and a form for him to fill out. Being hyper, Alexander had filled it out accordingly, not listening to Arthur's lecture on why he shouldn't write something called 'fanfiction' (another bell) about something called 'Axis Powers Hetalia' (yet another bell) while under the influence of sugar. Alexander may have been too hyper to recall, but he did write a fanfic while doped up on sugar.

It was revenge, after all. Why did that Asian chick dump him, anyways?

Alexander's blue-green eyes scanned the room. There didn't seem to be anyone familiar. Wonderful. Fucking _wonderful_. It would be like seventh grade again, when he walked into advisement and watched the others exclude him. Just because he was the new boy. Just because he was the _British_ boy.

Well, now he seemed to be surrounded by more Americans – maybe one Australian; he had heard that accent enough times to recognise it – and the majority of them seemed to be _girls_. And everyone knows the power the Sexy British Accent held over American girls.

Alexander thought it wouldn't be _too_ bad, then, since there was that one cute chick with short brown hair and glasses looking at him interestedly. She whispered something to a girl with longer brown hair and freckles, and both started giggling and blushing. As if his body knew that he was being talked about (probably with some mental undressing, too, if the predatory gazes of the first girl meant anything), Alexander felt his cheeks turning red.

The first girl then looked under the table and seemed to be telling someone something. Whoever was under the table swatted at her, causing the girl to laugh.

Finally deciding that he probably should eat breakfast, Alexander walked towards the buffet line and skipped the crumpets (scones weren't bad, but crumpets definitely were), ladling the familiar-looking porridge and toast onto a plate and walking over to the table with those two girls.

"May I sit here?" he asked politely. The two girls looked at each other, eyes lighting up.

"Why certainly," the second girl said in a horribly fake British accent (sounded like a mix between the 'posh' accent and the 'BBC' accent). "Do take a seat with us. What's your name?" She seemed to ask the question as if she already knew the answer.

"Alexander," he replied, and the girls grinned simultaneously.

"Brilliant, another Alex! We've about three girl Alexes, not counting that Mary Sue, and now you!" The first girl's fake British accent was somehow even worse. It sounded as if the 'Bostonian' accent had a love child with the 'posh' accent.

"I'm sure there are more pressing matters," the table suddenly said – or rather, that person that the first girl had been talking to under the table said. "Not that the Mary Sue isn't much of a pressing matter, but…"

Alexander poked his head under the table and blinked at the very familiar girl there. _Shit_.

"Oh, hello there," Jennifer Chang said weakly, waving. "Fancy seeing you here."

* * *

"More students," Mr. Allen (his alter-ego, Mr. Hugh, had refused to come out ever since the trial three days ago) groaned as he seated himself at the table. "Welcome to a new semester, folks."

"Technically, we're on break until after New Year's," Francis Bonnefois pointed out sweetly.

"Well, I don't care. New students, new semester. Let's get everything straight with the course schedule, okay? With new students, the courses get more complicated to schedule. All I am certain of is that each student must complete three semesters at this Academy before obtaining their license."

"Well, throwing them in with the current students would lead to confusion. I say we put our useless clones to work as teachers," Arthur Kirkland grumbled.

"Terrible idea, _rosbif_," Francis replied, but he seemed to only say it because of his principles. He never agreed with Arthur before, so why should he begin now? And Arthur looked cuter when he was all flustered and angry…

"Unhelpful frog," Arthur snapped.

Ludwig Beilschmidt sent them a warning glare. "In any case, the language lessons are continuing on two levels, then. We'll drop the cooking class so that the new students can have their language class in the afternoon."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was hoping that I could teach some more," Antonio Fernández Carriedo lamented.

"Antonio, teaching does not equal 'plying the students with wine and watching them attempt to make Spanish cuisine while drunk'," Roderich Edelstein chastised.

Ivan Braginski piped up. "Since Arthur's taking over the History classes for me, I can teach History to the new students." Arthur was covering the Age of Empire, beginning with Napoleon and ending with the decline of the British Empire after World War Two. He seemed enthusiastic about the subject and was constantly writing and rewriting lesson plans.

Ludwig nodded, making notes on the schedule. "And as for Canon 101, I fear that we have no choice but to split." That he directed at Feliciano Vargas and Kiku Honda.

"Feli-kun and I can take over for the older students, Ludwig-san," Kiku replied politely. "You may handle the new students."

"I never knew you were _this_ cunning, but I'll take the challenge," the German bit back. Kiku smiled innocently.

"What about Platonic Love and Mythology?" Elisabeta Héderváry piped up. "And Geography?"

"Royal Air Force Arthur and Aviator Alfred are teaching Platonic love, and Norway will still teach Mythology. Geography will be on Friday for the new students, as per usual," Mr. Allen replied. "And the older students will have 'What's in a Name' for their Friday class."

"May I be the first, aru?" Yao demanded, standing up. "Everyone confuses my names, aru."

Mr. Allen nodded. "Certainly, Yao, you may be the first guest speaker." He turned to Workbitch Bartholomew, his ridiculously-named secretary. "How are plans going for the Christmas party?"

"Quite smoothly," Workbitch replied, smoothing his slicked-back dark hair and smiling impassively. "Have you received any new dispatches?"

"The usual update on…" Mr. Allen coughed uncomfortably. "But besides that, nothing." Workbitch raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The door to the room opened and Gilbert Beilschmidt came prancing in. "I finally finished all of these fics for Tino and Berwald!" he exclaimed, grinning mischievously.

"Which fics?" Tino Väinämöinen asked confusedly from his spot next to Berwald Øxenstierna. The two were obviously trying to play a discreet game of footsie under the table.

"The ones the students wrote about themselves."

"Oh, right, the ones you've been hoarding from the rest of us," Elisabeta complained, pouting. "_We_ assigned them!"

"But they've been too awesome for sharing!" Gilbert whined.

"Share with us over Christmas, and we'll drop the subject," Vash Zwingli, ever the stormy peacemaker, snapped.

"Sounds like a plan!" Gilbert grinned.

Mr. Allen smiled from behind the schedule, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

* * *

"You've finally returned," the _elleth_ said, unamusedly arching a fine eyebrow. "What took you so long, Alexandra?"

"Apologies, Lilith, but I was stuck in the Conservatory."

"And how did you get out, you brainless scum?" Lilith looked down her nose at Alexandra Bonnefoy, the cat-girl Mary Sue who had been responsible for the infamous Glitter Bomb incident at IAHF.

"A little help." Alexandra shrugged. "I have information for you regarding the defences of the Academy, though."

"Spill," Lilith snapped, hurling the word like a poisoned knife.

"Certainly, Lilith."

"Call me 'your Majesty' while you're at it." Lilith smirked, like a cat. "I like the sound of 'your Majesty'."

Alexandra mentally rolled her eyes. "Yes, your Majesty."

* * *

**Notes:** Well, the new semester's technically kicking off, then! I'm only really plotting a bunch of relationship dramallama for this semester, so if someone has an interesting plotline that they'd like to do (I'm toying with ideas of a Student Council), feel free to share.

Also, I appreciate all the side notes on certain students, but I find them rather... well, it's kinda narrowing for me. I write the students with the vibe that I get from them in their registration forms. So please, don't give me extra information on your character unless I ask you to.

Ta muchly. Fun fact: Alexander really _is_ Jen's ex, if you know what I mean.


	27. God Save the Queen From the Anglophiles

**Note:** The word "throning" belongs to **Miss Cam**. It comes from the Norwegian word "tronet", and it's the act of sitting as you would on a _throne_, looking like you own the world.

* * *

**Part II**

"God save our gracious Queen, long live our noble Queen, God save the Queen," sang the members of the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles. "Send her victorious, happy and glorious, long to reign over us: God save the Queen!"

Everyone applauded, even though the majority of the people sang at different pitches and generally turned the de facto national anthem of Great Britain into a cacophony of sound. A couple of birds outside the window fell out of their trees in surprise.

"All right, I now call this meeting to order." Kriss was throning at the head of the table, smug in her presidency of the League of the Extraordinary Anglophiles. "As you all know, Christmas is coming up."

"Splendid!" several Anglophiles exclaimed. "We must get Arthur something!"

"Exactly what I was about to propose," Kriss replied, in her lovingly honed 'British' accent (which, according to real British people, sounded like a cross between the Bostonian and posh accents). "We must get something absolutely splendid for our dear Arthur."

"Arthur," sighed the Anglophiles in agreement. Jennifer hid a smile behind her teacup.

"Are my fellow Anglophiles going to offer any ideas?" Kriss arched an eyebrow, looking at one of the newer Anglophiles. Midori Harrison, who created music when she moved (the other day, Gilbert had pushed her down the stairs just to hear a piano concerto as she made contact with each step on her way down), took a pen (a flute trilled) and poised herself to write (several violins started tuning).

"A unicorn!" Yuri Yamaguchi screamed happily.

"Calm down, girl, this is a civilised organisation," Merka chided. Jennifer sniggered. Sure, they could be all tea and crumpets and pip-pip-cheerio during their meetings, but when they were actually faced with Arthur they became little more than a mass of oozing hormones. Not that hormones oozed… right?

"Okay." Suitably chastened, Yuri peeked out at them from behind her hair. "Sowwy."

"Unicorn sounds like an intriguing idea, but doesn't Arthur already have one?" Sakura Crystal Kirkland asked. "You know, that invisible one that stabs you in the back with its horns when you least expect it?"

Some of the newer Anglophiles winced. "We can get him a plushie," Monochrome Cloud reasoned.

"I'm sure someone in this group already has," Tori Troutman replied. Next to her, Karin Guarez chuckled sheepishly.

Midori wrote down 'unicorn plushie', causing bells to tinkle as she wrote. "Okay, I think this whole 'part-musician' thing is starting to get annoying," she said – or rather, _sang_.

"Ahaha, jealous you're not a Vocaloid like me?" Rinaldia Aria Winston Rivera teased, grinning as she touched her headset. Several windows broke.

"Yeah, because I'd love to break glass every time I speak," Midori retorted musically.

"Please, there is no need to fight," Kriss stated pompously. "Any other suggestions?"

"Something _Harry Potter_-related," Anastasia Debby suggested. Midori wrote it down, to the tune of strumming harps.

_Yeah, maybe a Time-Turner or something_, Charley Maytha suggested. She was yet another one of those Fanfic Writers. She was also a Fan Artist, which meant that her mental images could appear in a small clip without warning. Since she was British, her words flashed in the colours of the Union Jack instead of Bled, the terrible school colour. Bled had been created over the summer by Arthur and Kiku, and it was purple's evil little sister.

The Anglophiles were treated to a quick film of Arthur going back in time.

"A Sonic Screwdriver!" Karin Guarez crowed suddenly. "We could get him a Sonic Screwdriver!"

Pause. "But how?" Merka exclaimed, looking ready to become a hypocrite and spaz about David Tennant any minute.

Midori wrote the suggestion down anyways, a lone violin playing as she did so.

* * *

One long plotting session (and several cups of Earl Grey) later, Jennifer, Kriss, and Merka had made no headway on Operation Sonic Screwdriver.

"Oh bugger, I've got hockey practice," Merka groaned, looking at the clock.

"And I have skiing," Kriss added, looking a bit more cheered up at the prospect of skiing with Arthur. The two of them looked at Jennifer.

"You hanging with Workbitch?" Merka asked. Jennifer blushed, nodding.

"Have fun, then!" Kriss grinned evilly. "You don't mind if I pick up your ex, hm?"

"I don't give a flying fuck," Jennifer replied levelly. "You can skip off with him into the sunset – but you'll have to worry about Vance if you do try to skip off with him."

"Vance?" both girls echoed.

"His friend who has a total boner for him," Jennifer deadpanned. "Like… it's not even funny. And he's gross, so there's no cute yaoi to come out of it." The last part was directed at a gleeful Kriss.

"Do you think he likes him back? You know, your ex…" Merka whispered conspiratorially. Jennifer shrugged.

"How do I know? He's got the sensitivity of a rock. And I don't think he really notices that Vance has a boner for him."

Kriss squealed. "It's like Charlie!" she gushed, bouncing happily. By now, the girls were outside, heading towards the rental shop. "He's obsessed with Mr. Hugh, but Mr. Hugh never notices!"

"At least both Mr. Hugh and Charlie are decent-looking," Jennifer pointed out sourly. "If you see Vance, you'd want him far away from yourself and anyone else you care for."

"Talking about Vance, are we?" a fourth voice interrupted, and the three turned to see Alexander, looking totally unconcerned with his hands in his pockets.

"Why, yes, we are," Jennifer snapped. "Just tossing out the warning signs." She looked over at Merka and Kriss. "Have fun, I'm going inside."

"We're not even halfway to the rental shop! Are you –" Merka called, but Kriss shushed her.

Alexander was looking after his ex with a curious look on his face. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, half-concerned and half-jeering.

"She's got to meet up with someone," Merka explained. Alexander thanked any deities that might be near for her lack of a fake British accent. "In the meantime, why don't you hang with us? Kriss's got skiing and I've got hockey, but maybe you can go skiing with Kriss."

"I'll kill you, though, since I suck at skiing," Kriss warned.

Alexander shrugged. "Not that I care. Lead the way."

* * *

Workbitch was loitering outside the library, reading a book. Upon seeing Jennifer, he hastily closed it and put it away. "You look worried," he said concernedly, raising both eyebrows.

"Yeah. My ex is in town."

"Ex… boyfriend?" Workbitch asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah. Freshman fling." Jennifer shrugged. "I'm just concerned that my friends are falling for him. He's like… their new puppy."

Workbitch snickered. "Endearing," he remarked snidely. "Well, shall we?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere far from your worries, I'd hope," he replied.

They walked together in companionable silence down the hall, out the door, and away from the campus buildings until that all that surrounded the two of them were snow and a couple of snow-covered trees. The noise of hockey, skiing, snowboarding, and screaming died down to an almost unnatural silence.

"Winter's so dead," Jennifer sighed after a moment. "It's got the happiest times of the year, but…" she looked about her. "I sometimes wish I was born in summer."

"You have a winter birthday?" Workbitch asked curiously. "Do tell."

"It passed already," Jennifer replied, remembering the very low-key celebration. Only Megan, Lucia, Kriss, and Merka had been present. They had baked her a chocolate cake, but they had also mistaken the salt for the sugar.

"Pity. I would have gotten you a little something." Workbitch's expression was unreadable.

"And I honestly don't know what to give you for Christmas," Jennifer blurted, feeling embarrassed. "I mean, there's so much more I can do than just… a card."

"I don't really want anything," he replied quietly, "other than to see you stop worrying and smile. You look better with your mouth turned up, you know." Jennifer's cheeks flared up and she giggled weakly.

"You're so corny," Jennifer chided, kicking a bit of snow at him. He retaliated, and soon they were hurling snowballs at each other. The snowballs missed their targets, since both seemed to have horrendous aim.

Jennifer didn't know how long it had been since she had last laughed like that – not just a little snicker or a giggle, but a cry of laughter that was so uncontrollable that she had to stop to breathe and suppress the urge to pee.

* * *

"You're late," Merka accused at dinner, dodging a stray piece of pizza. A Prumano versus Spamano food fight raged from all around, and Alexander seemed to be sporting a slice of pizza for a hat.

"You've got pizza on your head," Jennifer remarked rudely. Alexander paid her no attention.

"Why're you being so mean to your ex?" Kriss pouted. "I mean, it's not like _he_ dumped _you_."

"Why are you suddenly so protective of my ex?" Jennifer retorted. "Fancy him?"

"What?" Alexander's head popped up. "Who fancies me?"

"Kriss," Jennifer replied simply, nudging the pink-faced Asakiku fangirl. "She usually doesn't sit here, you know."

"I sit here often!" Kriss huffed, pouting and blushing. "But you're very cute and British," she added in an undertone, looking bashfully at Alexander. Jennifer resisted the urge to laugh again.

"Er, thanks," Alexander replied, eating his pizza without comment.

After a moment, Merka coughed awkwardly. "Did we get our timetables yet?" she asked. "I know we're keeping Language, Canon 101, and History… but what else…"

"Arthur's teaching History this time around," Jennifer replied immediately, grinning. "Age of Empire, you know. Britannia rules the waves."

"We should sing that sometime," Kriss mused, trying to look anywhere except at the British boy sitting innocently across from her at the table. A piece of pepperoni flew into her hair.

"How was your walk?" Merka abruptly changed the subject again. "You look like you had fun." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oh, right, it was fun," Jennifer said noncommittally, not wanting to talk about Workbitch within earshot of her ex. "The scenery gets prettier the farther you get away from the school."

"That's because the scenery near the school gets trampled by Alfred and Ivan on a regular basis," Kriss sniffed.

Kitty Smith walked by, grinning widely. She managed all the betting pools at IAHF and seemed often to have the latest gossip even before Shinbun-kun. Shinbun may be the personification of the media, but sometimes he was more like the personification of snooping.

"What's with the smile, Kitty?" Merka asked, waylaying Kitty as she went. "Got any news for us today?"

"Well, I've got good ones and bad ones," Kitty replied, still grinning.

"Bad news first," Kriss reasoned.

"Celeste's in the hospital wing, after Alfred and Ivan used her in their student-tossing contest."

Jennifer facepalmed. "They really need to find some better way to occupy time rather than sitting around comparing their dicks," she groused loudly.

"Well, they do that once in a while, but Ivan always wins," Kitty replied. "Bigger peninsulas, you know."

"I will never look at my home state the same way ever again," Kriss sighed.

"Anyways," Merka added loudly, "what's the good news?"

"Christmas is this Friday, and I heard Finland's giving presents."

"Oh, good," Jennifer said, grinning. "I hope he knows what I want."

Kriss and Merka raised their eyebrows.

* * *

Mr. Hugh, having finally been coaxed out of his corner somewhere in his and Mr. Allen's shared cerebrum, read the new document with a critical eye. For once, he wasn't reading about something that had to with Mary Sues, but that didn't make it any less worrying.

"Crossover plotholes?" he murmured to himself in a British accent (the only way to tell the difference between him and Mr. Allen was the sound of their accents; Mr. Hugh had a British accent and Mr. Allen had an American one), pouring himself a glass of pinot noir. He had nicked a couple bottles from Francis's room – it wasn't as if the Frenchman would _miss_ them, after all – and was already on his third glass. He hadn't drunk this much since his school days.

And that in and of itself reminded him of happier, more carefree days spent at Eton, climbing trees and buildings and watching the rest of the world go by. Mr. Hugh set down the glass of wine and strode out of his room, taking several flights of stairs to reach the roof of the Staff Section.

Several students attempting to enter the Staff Section through the roof screamed at the sight of him and jumped off. Mr. Hugh shook his head as he walked past and leaned against a chimney, looking up at the night sky. The moon was hiding shyly behind a cloud, surrounded by a cloak of stars.

The world below stretched out as one long blanket of white, interrupted by snowmen, footprints, and bare trees. Apparently, the students were having a snowman-building competition, trying to fashion their Lust Objects out of snow. Someone had even wrapped a scarf around one of the Ivan snowmen.

Mr. Hugh smiled for a moment, looking out at the calm scenery. He tried to think of everything except the documents sitting on his desk right now, not wanting to worry himself. His breath appeared as a puff in front of him, spiralling into the winter evening.

"Hey! Mr. Hugh!" someone called and Mr. Hugh panicked at seeing Charlie Tenterden drop onto the roof next to him, grinning. Charlie was a Mr. Hugh fanboy, for some unknown reason.

"Don't grope me," the Course Coordinator growled, so Charlie stopped a few feet away, still grinning.

"How are you?" he asked excitedly, positively shaking with excitement. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

"And that's for a good reason," Mr. Hugh replied, looking away.

"Hey, you're all right, right?" Charlie asked, eyes wide. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"I am perfectly fine," Mr. Hugh snapped, crossing his arms.

"If you say so," Charlie replied with a pout. They fell into silence, Mr. Hugh pointedly ignoring his fanboy.

After a moment, Charlie spoke up again. "The stars are pretty tonight, aren't they?" he asked, smiling.

"Quite nice," Mr. Hugh grunted, still gazing at the stars.

"Why are you here, in the first place?"

"I do what I like," Mr. Hugh replied. "As for you, I have no idea how you got onto this roof without attracting Mochi attention."

"Oh, I have my ways," Charlie said flippantly. "Can I call you Hughie?"

"Absolutely not," Mr. Hugh snapped, clearly affronted.

"Thanks, Hughie!"

A nervous tic started in Mr. Hugh's right eye.

* * *

Meanwhile, the rest of the staff was helping Tino set up his annual Heta Streeem broadcast station. Well, at least the Nordics were…

"Our battle begins now!" Alfred screamed, spraying copious amounts of whipped cream at Ivan, who was hulking across the room in his fort made of Wizard Arthur's spell books.

"Alfred, pipe down and belt up!" normal Arthur hollered, defending himself from stray whipped cream with a silver platter.

"No, no, let him," Ivan encouraged, grinning. "It's such fun to play with friends!"

"I think you've had too much whipped cream," Raivis Galante blurted from the armchair nearby. Across from him, Eduard Von Bock cuddled up with Stonia and Lativa. The Estonian had been promoted recently to Mochi Trainer, and he always had a parade of Mochis following him wherever he went. The third member of their Baltic trio, Toris Lorinatis, was in the kitchen making coffee for everyone .

"Raivis, you know not to…" Eduard chided, feeding Stonia some bacon. Over at the fort, Ivan had retaliated with a barrage of whipped cream as well, causing Alfred to squeal and run out of his blanket fort.

"Honestly, you two are going to deplete our entire supply of whipped cream within the next hour if you keep this up," Ludwig snapped, warily eyeing the stacks of empty cans next to the two superpowers.

"They're just too childish, aru," Yao sighed, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Hong Kong, do you have some snacks, aru?"

"Like, right here," Hong Kong replied, handing the Chinese man some panda-shaped snacks.

Tino poked his head into the room. "Still fighting, you two?" he asked Alfred and Ivan right when the American was about to start hurling (bright blue) cake icing. "We need some help with lifting crates."

"I get to help?" Alfred beamed. "All right! The Hero is always ready to – Aaugh!" He had accidentally slipped on whipped cream and sent the entire blanket fort crashing down – including Arthur's Wedgewood vase, which had been acting as a weight. "I'm sorry, Arthur!"

"YOU INSENSITIVE –" Arthur started cursing colourfully, reverting into some sort of cockney drawl that made his words almost indistinguishable.

"I'm really sorry, Arthur!" Alfred cried, already picking up the pieces that remained of the Wedgewood vase.

"Er, Alfred, you don't pick it up with your fingers, you dumbass," Ivan called from across the room. "It'll –" Whatever he said was drowned out in Arthur's suddenly comprehensible tirade.

"YOU BLOODY BASTARD, THIS THING COST A NEAR DAMN FORTUNE! I HAD TO BEG THAT DAMN WEDGEWOOD BLOKE ON HANDS AND KNEES TO GET THIS VASE! IT IS A KIRKLAND FAMILY HEIRLOOM AND NOW YOU'VE BROKEN IT! STUPID YANK!"

"WAAAH, I'M SORRY, ARTHUR!" Alfred bawled, running out of the room with the pieces of the vase. "I'LL GLUE IT TOGETHER, OKAY?"

Arthur quickly went from looking very red in the face to deathly pale. "GLUE IT TOGETHER?" he screamed after the American. "YOU'LL MESS IT ALL UP! NO, YOU TOSSER, GET BACK HERE!"

"I'll help with the lifting, then," Ivan sighed, following Tino out of the room.

* * *

**Notes:** I just remembered that I should probably slip in the Bloodbath… so keep your eyes on the Crossover Plothole.


	28. Mistletoe, Mistletoe Everywhere

**Notes:** I do believe I said _NOT_ to give character notes. Just so you know. I'm not mad, and thanks for all the info people have given me already, but please don't give any more information.

* * *

**Part III**

"Arthur-san?"

Arthur Kirkland looked up from his seventieth revision of his lesson plans to see Kiku Honda, standing there awkwardly in the doorway.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, smiling. "Are you here to visit? I have tea."

"Tea sounds good," Kiku acquiesced. "We're here to talk."

Arthur arched a thick eyebrow as he pulled out a chair for his Japanese friend. "What is it, then? I'm all ears."

"You remember what happened over the summer, right?" Kiku asked, accepting a cup of Japanese Sencha with a grateful smile. Arthur had a very extensive tea collection, and he always knew what Kiku wanted.

Arthur, halfway through pouring himself a cup of Earl Grey, frowned. "You might have to elucidate," he said, setting down the electric kettle and turning around. "What particular incident are we referring to?"

"The Bled one, what else?" Kiku asked. Arthur started looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Er, yes, the Bled incident." Arthur shuffled from one foot to the other, blushing. "Why are you thinking about that now? I thought we agreed to forget it."

"It's hard to forget," Kiku pointed out, shifting slightly in his chair.

"Yes, I know…" Arthur sighed, surveying the Japanese man's countenance. "What are we going to talk about regarding the Bled Incident? We've already established that the colour cannot be undone, only removed temporarily."

Kiku took a sip. "Mr. Allen said that we've got to… help him."

Arthur blinked. "Help him? With what? Kiku, please stop being vague."

"Gomenasai, Arthur-san…" Kiku looked up at Arthur. "Mr. Allen knows what happened the night Bled was created, and he wants us to recreate the process."

"And why does he want that?" Arthur demanded, blushing furiously.

"He wants to know how we did it so that he can… undo the damage." Kiku paused, blushing. "That's what he said. It's vague, I know."

"Oh." Arthur bit his lower lip. "I see." Kiku nodded, smiling slightly. "Well, you know what? We're taking a vow of silence after this. No one else must know what happened that night."

"Hai," Kiku breathed. "I understand perfectly, Arthur-san."

"I knew I could count on you to agree." Arthur smirked.

* * *

"No headway on Operation Sonic Screwdriver?" Tori asked Kriss in the library on Wednesday. The League was collaborating on the scheme, but like before there had been no success.

"Nope," Kriss sighed, staring listlessly at a giant stack of books. "Nineteen books and not a single picture of David Tennant. I'm sad now."

"That's disappointing," Merka mumbled from across the table. Jennifer shrugged, partly absorbed in a book on parallel dimensions. All of the theory went over her head, but she liked the idea.

Anastasia Debby was reading the book over Jennifer's shoulder; she suddenly grinned. "Hey! Hey, look at this!"

Jennifer looked up. "Look at what?" she demanded.

"This article on the crossover plothole!"

Everyone gathered around the book. "But it's got nothing on how to make one," Karin Guarez whined.

"It would have solved the problem, right? If we had one, we could… go and find the Doctor and steal the Sonic Screwdriver from him!"

Pause. "Knowing Kriss, Merka, and Karin, they'd be too busy drooling at the Doctor to steal the screwdriver," Jennifer pointed out.

"Oh, right." Anastasia looked despondent.

The doors to the library were suddenly flung open and Shinbun-kun ran inside, throwing them a copy of the _Bled Chronicles_. Karin caught it and started reading. Yelling "EXTRA EXTRA!" at the top of his lungs, the hyperactive reporter raced out of the library, chased by Monaco, who was the grumpy (but hot) librarian.

"I swear, if he didn't write the newspaper I'd have complained to Mr. Allen about him already," Monaco groused as she picked up another copy of the paper and strode to her desk.

Karin and the other Anglophile Nerds were already discussing the front-page story about Tino's Christmas Heta Streeem. "Well, at least we won't have to miss any pictures if Shinbun's going to put them all in the paper."

The IAHF Staff was going to take a more… interactive route for the Heta Streeem this year. In terms of victims, the students were just as fair game as the staff. On Friday morning, the students were to submit their requests for pictures; the pictures would be given out at the Christmas Eve party. Students who had cameras had all been recruited as 'Santa's Helpers'.

"Hey, look here," Jennifer said suddenly, pointing to a sidebar article. "From the Desk of Mr. Allen/Hugh: The Crossover Plothole Warning!"

"Crossover plotholes?" everyone demanded, shoving at each other in order to get to the paper.

"Just read it out loud!" Tori hissed, shoving the paper at Monochrome Cloud. The Malaysian girl adjusted her glasses and began to read the article in a flawless BBC accent.

"Mr. Allen/Hugh's latest dispatches from the Protectors of the Plot Continuum headquarters warn us about crossover plotholes, not Mary Sues. According to the documents, there is a crossover plothole at IAHF that is on the verge of opening again."

"What!" exclaimed Rinaldia, causing poor Monochrome's glasses to shatter. Unfazed, she grabbed another pair and turned away from the Vocaloid. Rinaldia pouted.

"True to its name, the crossover plothole enables characters from two different fandoms to visit each other. Crossover plotholes are extremely hard to create, therefore the majority of them just randomly manifest. However, created plotholes are easier to seal off than naturally occurring ones. Bad plotholes will cause characters to become out of character during their travel, thus creating bad crossovers. 'We are trying to figure out how to seal this plothole,' Mr. Allen says. 'Hopefully it will be closed before the new semester starts.'"

"That means we have to find it now!" Merka declared, putting both hands on her hips.

"Apparently this crossover plothole was mysteriously created over the summer. Some Staff members claim that it had appeared at the same time as Bled. The creators of Bled are unavailable for comment. The plothole is currently harmless, but if the PPC Dispatches are of any significance, then these plotholes can become a serious problem if not sealed up in time."

_He didn't give us the location_, sighed Charley Maytha.

"At least we know one of them is at IAHF," Sakura pointed out.

"What are we waiting for?" Yuri demanded. "Let's go find it! It's adventure time!"

"Shush!" Monaco hissed from the librarian's desk.

* * *

Karen DuLay was having fun baking cookies. By now, this was her one hundred and sixth attempt to win Ludwig's heart. _He'd come around soon_, she thought maniacally as she continued to knead the cookie dough. _Sooner or later, he will realise that we're meant to be_…

"Karen!" a jarringly familiar voice resounded from behind her.

"Oh fuck, it's you," Karen snapped without even looking up from her work.

"Making cookies for Ludwig?" Aloisio Guerra asked, fluttering over her shoulder to watch her.

"You got a problem with that?" Karen demanded, looking back at him with a glare. Aloisio blushed and clasped his hands together innocently.

"Oho, not at all," Aloisio replied, grinning evilly.

"Then go away," Karen growled, raising her rolling pin threateningly. "I don't want to give Ludwig bloody cookies."

Aloisio did a flip mid-air, sticking his tongue out at her. "I'm not going until you declare your love for me!" he exclaimed dramatically, strumming his lyre. "Karen, Karen, te necisito solamente, te quiero solamente, te amo solamente…"

"Go away!" Karen started swatting at him with her rolling pin, and after a few moments of dodging, Aloisio took that as a very good indication to retreat.

He'd come up with a better plan soon.

* * *

"Dora, how's everything?" Carolina Brown asked, taking a seat next to her sister Dorothy. The green-haired girl looked up from her book, smiling slightly.

"Hm, it's been commonplace," Dorothy replied primly, noticing Carolina's slight slouched stance. "Sit up, Carolina."

"Yes, Dora," Carolina said meekly, sitting up straight.

"Now, tell me. How are the classes here? I only applied to make sure you were okay. Is everything all right?" She paused, and then grinned wickedly. "Have you fallen in _love_ yet?"

"What, no!" Carolina snapped, eyes going wide. She turned to look at her sister. "You're not being serious, right?"

"I am always serious," Dorothy deadpanned.

"Sure, Dora, I'm sure you're joking, because there's no way that I like anyone. Absolutely not."

"You seem to be overreacting to such an innocent question, Carolina," Dorothy pointed out innocently.

"Well, I just wanted to make it perfectly clear!" Carolina exclaimed, blushing furiously.

"You're doing a horrible job of hiding any crushes."

"But you're my sister!" And Carolina never wanted to look bad in front of her sister! Absolutely not!

"Is that why you're always accusing people of lying when they tell me you like someone at school?" Dorothy wondered thoughtfully. "Because I'm your sister and you think it's icky to talk about boys with your sister?"

Carolina's face flushed tomato red. "Uh, yeah," she mumbled. "I'm just..." she trailed off awkwardly. "I don't know, I wouldn't call it love..."

"So you do admit you like someone, at the very least?" Dorothy arched an eyebrow, never losing her prim demeanour even when talking about liking people.

"Well, you know that I don't consider sexual attraction as a good foundation for a relationship," Carolina mumbled.

"Then what is?" Dorothy wondered.

"I thought you were asexual!" Carolina seemed desperate to change the subject.

"Just because I don't lust after anyone doesn't mean I don't think about love," Dorothy replied waspishly. "Carry on."

Carolina had bypassed fire engine red and was pushing brick red by now. "Well... there's this boy that I sit with at mealtimes..."

"The one with the glasses and the curly brown hair, am I right?" Dorothy asked. "Doesn't he have allergies to everything?"

"Yeah. And I think part of the reason why I like him is because I pity him," Carolina added, shrugging and looking at her feet. "I don't really think it's attraction – well, I'm hoping that it isn't."

Dorothy chuckled. "Well, don't go delineating feelings right now, Carolina, you're still fifteen."

Carolina nodded. "I know," she said. And she did. Everything her sister told her, she took to heart.

* * *

Mistletoe, mistletoe everywhere. It hung from the ceilings, the windows, the doorways, the bookshelves, the stairwells, the lights, and basically every possible location in the Staff Section. Vash Zwingli had already attempted to shoot down some of the mistletoe, but more kept popping up.

Arthur strode through the halls, glaring at the hemi-parasitic plant every time he encountered it. _If I had two pence for every time I saw mistletoe_, he thought poisonously, casting a particularly withering glare at the sprig dangling from the chandelier. As if it knew, the plant shrunk slightly.

"Rosbif, if you keep on glaring like that your brows will freeze together permanently," Francis remarked snidely. Arthur whirled around and took a few steps away from the chandelier, crossing himself as he went.

"What the fuck are you doing here, you bearded wine sop?" the Briton demanded, causing the Frenchman to chuckle.

"Oh rosbif, hasn't anyone ever washed your mouth out with soap?"

"Shut up!"

Francis looked up and grinned. "Not unless you kiss me, l'Angleterre," he said, grinning.

"What?" Arthur demanded. "Over my dead – GET DOWN FROM THE CEILING, BRITANNIA ANGEL!" He had looked up at the ceiling to see his angelic counterpart, who was conjuring more mistletoe over their heads with his magic wand. "I WILL FUCKING TEAR THE WINGS FROM YOUR BODY IF YOU – _MMMF_!" Francis had grabbed him and kissed him right at that moment, causing Britannia Angel to cackle evilly and start taking pictures.

"RAPE! RAPE! HELP, I'M BEING SEXUALLY HARASSED!" Arthur screamed as he forcefully broke away from Francis. He tried to jump for the angel, but Britannia only zoomed away backwards, laughing. "YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING –"

"Calm down, rosbif. He's only going to distribute those pictures to Elisabeta and Kiku..."

"WHAT? I WILL NOT CALM DOWN TO _THAT_! THEY'LL SHOW THE ENTIRE SCHOOL! AND THEN THOSE BLOODY FANGIRLS WILL THINK I'M WITH YOU!"

Francis snorted. "And you think that I, a Frenchman of obvious refined tastes, would stoop so low as to go out with a thick-browed rosbif such as yourself?"

"THEN WHAT WAS THAT DAMNED KISS FOR?" Arthur demanded.

"Oh, l'Angleterre, obviously having half the school after you has gotten to your head." Francis pretended to have a migraine. "Pity, pity."

At that, Arthur smacked him all the way down the hall.

* * *

**Notes:** So, students. What do you want to see in the pictures? Anyone in IAHF is fair game.


	29. Kitty and Anita's Gossip Chart

**Additional Disclaimer:** I do not own _Scandinavia and the World_; that belongs to Humon.

* * *

**Part IV**

"So, did you hear?"

"Hear about what?"

"Everything, Anita!" Kitty Smith looked gleeful as she dragged a giant whiteboard into the dorm room. On it were people's names, with various arrows linking them to each other.

"What is that?" Anita Khok, Kitty's roommate, demanded as she looked at the whiteboard.

"A chart of who's with whom, of course," Kitty replied wickedly. "It shows relationships, crushes, one-night stands, breakups… everything!"

"That is so creepy," Anita declared. "Is this updated?"

"You'll help me with updating it, of course," Kitty replied, smirking.

Anita peered at the diagrams. "What's with the question marks?"

"Those are my guesses," Kitty replied. "See this one between Tori and Franklin?" She pointed to the arrow that went from TORI TROUTMAN to FRANKLIN MYCROFT LIVINGSTON. "Tori denies it vehemently, but we all know that level of insistence means she feels the exact opposite."

"Yeah, just look at Arthur," agreed Anita, erasing the double-headed arrow between KRISS KROSS and MERKA BREIGHER and replacing it with two arrows going in opposite directions.

"I thought they were an item!" Kitty exclaimed. "You sure they're not?"

"They're too shy to admit it to each other," Anita replied, shrugging. She then drew arrows from the two girls to ALEXANDER MORRIS.

"Well, that was expected," Kitty sighed as she drew an arrow from ALOISIO GUERRA to KAREN DULAY.

"Just from him to her?" Anita asked, looking mildly disappointed.

"Yeah, it's horribly one-sided. Almost like Charlie and Mr. Hugh – and before I forget –" Kitty drew another arrow from CHARLIE TENTERDEN to MR. HUGH FRASER. "Voilà."

"Oh, yes, ditto for Carolina to Franklin, here." Anita drew an arrow from CAROLINA BROWN to FRANKLIN MYCROFT LIVINGSTON. "But we all know he's in the closet for Taylor." There went the arrow from FRANKLIN MYCROFT LIVINGSTON to TAYLOR DREWS-GARCIA.

"I swear, all the guys are gay for him," Kitty sighed. "But now I'm sad, because that'll mess up the relationship between Taylor and Mike!" She pointed to the double-headed arrow between TAYLOR DREWS-GARCIA and MIKE HAWK.

"At least Mike can find consolation with Mars McMillan. Mm, those goggles," Anita sighed. Pause. "Forget I said anything."

"That'd be so cute!" squealed Kitty. "They act the same, though, so they can pretend to be straight together!"

"My point exactly," Anita replied. "Oh, don't forget Kuril and Enrique. Now that's something I want to see." She grinned an Ivan-like grin. "I've seen Kuril stare predatorily at Enrique sometimes."

"Probably because it's full moon next week," Kitty noted, cackling. "Mm, a vampire and a werewolf…"

Anita giggled. "Let's go back to these two," she said after a moment, pointing to MEGAN and LUCIA VERDAS. "You got anything on them?"

Kitty shrugged. "Dunno. You?"

Anita smirked, nodding. She then drew a wavy double-headed arrow between MEGAN and ANDREW HO.

Kitty dropped her marker in surprise. "NO WAY!" she shrieked. "They got some!"

"She cheated on Lucia like… last night," Anita explained, twirling her marker. "I mean, what else explains Megan and Andrew's dishevelled appearances this morning and how closely they sat together at breakfast? I could've sworn Andrew was sitting funny, but…"

Kitty snorted. "Megan _would_ try to top a guy," she sniggered. "But still, poor Lucia. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know."

"Yeah… Megan likes… like, everyone." Anita grinned as she drew arrows from Megan's label to just about everyone else on the chart. "Barring a couple of people, that is. I don't think she wants to sleep with that British kid Alexander."

"That's because he's shorter than her," Kitty pointed out, grinning. "Still, I think Alexander's got enough on his plate with Merka and Kriss going after him. Think he still likes Jennifer?"

Anita responded by drawing an arrow. "Certainly looks like it at times," she replied.

"I disapprove," Kitty sniffed. "I wonder how many of these straight arrows are actually wavy ones."

Both girls looked at the ridiculously straight (as in, done with a ruler straight) arrow between JENNIFER CHANG and WORKBITCH BARTHOLOMEW.

* * *

Jennifer Chang wanted to turn around, walk back to the dorms, crawl beneath the covers, and sleep for a week. But she couldn't, because she was tiptoeing down a dark hallway with Kriss and Merka, in search of the Holy Grail.

That is, if the Holy Grail was a crossover plothole.

There once was a time when sneaking around at night with Kriss and Merka was fun. Nowadays it had turned into something very awkward. Jennifer now felt like an intruder, a third wheel, and a side sampler of those lovely strawberries of unresolved sexual tension. She would have made an awkward turtle, but the last time she did it got absolutely no response.

"Great, fucking great," she muttered to herself as Kriss and Merka shared another awkward 'do you like me because I like you and I don't know if you like me back' glance. "What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?"

"Nothing," Kriss snapped. Merka nodded vehemently, crossing her arms.

Jennifer sighed, trudging along ahead of them with the flashlight. "Where are we?" she asked after a moment.

"No clue," Merka said immediately, as Jennifer shone the flashlight on the portraits all along the wall. The Nations were depicted in each oil painting, stern-faced and splendidly dressed. Obviously, these things had been painted centuries ago. She recognised the painting of Roderich Edelstein that Chibitalia had defaced – the moustache was still there.

Kriss glowered. "I haven't the foggiest," she agreed grouchily.

"Stop PMSing, Kriss," Merka teased. Jennifer thought that statement actually had some substance to it.

"Shut up!" Kriss hissed.

"Well, if you won't stop PMSing, then stop acting so tsundere to poor Merka," Jennifer sighed. But Kriss looked about to murder someone, so they dropped the topic and continued to walk down the hallway.

"Is it just me," Merka said suddenly, "or do I smell strawberries?"

"Nah, that's just the unresolved sexual tension floating around between the two of you. I'd like it if you can fix it sometime this century," Jennifer deadpanned.

"No, no, seriously. I smell strawberries, too," Kriss said, frowning. Jennifer blinked.

Sure enough, the entire hallway smelt like cloyingly sweet strawberries. Jennifer sniffed once, twice, and fought the urge to retch. The smell got worse as they advanced down the hallway, until…

"Holy Roman Empire, what the fuck is that?" Merka breathed.

"I think it's a crossover plothole," Jennifer murmured, as they gazed at the Bled-coloured nebula floating at the end of the hallway.

"It smells like dead strawberries," Kriss complained, shielding her eyes from the horrible colour. Meanwhile, Merka had grabbed a stick and was gingerly poking the plothole with it.

"What if it explodes?" Jennifer wondered curiously before reaching into the plothole and blindly feeling around. "OW!" she suddenly screamed, as something stabbed her hand. Pain shot through her entire body, and she quickly pulled her hand out of the plothole.

"Your hand! It's bleeding!" Merka screamed. "Oh my god, this is bad! This is really bad!"

A figure suddenly jumped out of the plothole, carrying a bloodstained knife. He wore a green knit cap on his head and a shirt with the Finnish flag on it. He also looked as if he needed a shave, and he bore a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"Perkele," he hissed.

In perfect three-part harmony, Jennifer, Merka, and Kriss screamed.

"IT'S SCANDINAVIA AND THE WORLD FINLAND! OKAY, NOW IT'S REALLY, REALLY BAD! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

* * *

"You got everything settled?" Tino Väinämöinen asked Denmark and Norway, who were looking very pleased with themselves. "All of the cameras are in place, correct?"

"Yes," replied Norway. "We're expecting to be inundated with picture requests tomorrow. I hope your helpers will show up at the entrance of the Staff Section on time."

"Oh, they will. Never underestimate a fanstudent with a picture-taking mission," Tino cackled.

"So, how are we going to split up the requests for Staff pictures?" Denmark asked. "Because I'm pretty sure most students will ask for pictures of the Staff."

"We'll be doing the usual camera-phone things with the Staff, then. That shouldn't be too hard," Tino replied.

"Who's taking pictures, other than us Nordics?" Norway asked.

Tino looked thoughtful. "Well, Picardy, Kiku, and Elisabeta definitely are. I haven't heard from Francis, Hong Kong, or Nataliya yet."

"I think they'll agree," Norway replied, crossing his arms. "Ahh, hei, Iceland." He nodded coolly at Iceland, who had appeared clutching his temperamental puffin.

"There's something strange going on," Iceland said by way of greeting. "Or at least, I woke up thinking that."

"What could possibly be wrong?" Tino wondered. "Other than getting inappropriate picture requests from the students, but we usually ignore those."

"No, it's got nothing to do with that. It's got something to do with the crazy knife-wielding person standing behind you."

Tino turned around, eyes widening when he saw Scandinavia and the World Finland. "Perkele," he cursed.

"Perkele," Scandinavia and the World Finland replied, as if that curse word was a greeting.

The other Nordics looked at each other worriedly. "Do you think there's more of… his friends… anywhere else?" Denmark wondered, peering at Scandinavia and the World Finland from behind Norway.

Suddenly, a man with curly blond hair and a Norwegian flag shirt popped up behind Scandinavia and the World Finland. "Now, now, Finland, you know you shouldn't threaten these people," he warned. Scandinavia and the World Finland merely turned the knife on the new arrival, who looked mildly freaked out. "You wouldn't want me telling Sister Sweden, now would you?" the man asked, chuckling.

Scandinavia and the World Finland glared. The curly-haired man grinned at the Nordics sheepishly. "H-hei… I'm Norway," he said. "Sorry about Finland's behaviour… have any of you seen Denmark around here? He looks a bit like you," he added, pointing to Denmark, "but without the hat… and he wears the Danish flag."

"I'm Denmark!" Denmark snapped, but Norway – not the Scandinavia and the World one – punched him in the jaw.

"You idiot, he's talking about another Denmark."

"Well, we haven't seen him," Tino said, nervously eying Scandinavia and the World Finland. "We'll look for him for you, since you seem to be –" he was cut off by a cry.

"NORWAY! FINLAND! There you are!" A blond man with glasses and the Swedish flag on his shirt cried, running into the scene looking very out of breath. "I haven't seen Denmark anywhere!"

"Yes, yes, I thought so, Sweden," Scandinavia and the World Norway sighed. "Can you convince Finland to put his knife down?"

"Finland, put the knife down," Scandinavia and the World Sweden snapped, smoothing his hair back into place.

Scandinavia and the World Finland glared. Scandinavia and the World Norway sighed. "No luck, I guess. Well, these nice folks are willing to give us a hand."

"That's helpful," Scandinavia and the World Sweden replied. "What are your names?"

"I'm Denmark!" Denmark snapped. "And that's Norway, Iceland, and Finland – his name's Tino, by the way."

The Scandinavia and the World Nations looked at each other. In his surprise, Scandinavia and the World Finland put down his knife.

"Wait, wait, we have impostors?" Scandinavia and the World Sweden demanded.

"You're our impostors!" Denmark declared. Norway punched him again. "Ow, Norway! Stop that!"

Norway glared at him. "You're not helping the situation. We're going to help these… other Nations."

"Yes, yes, that sounds like an idea," Tino piped up. "You are only missing Denmark, correct?"

"Well, by now I'm guessing that more of our colleagues could have crossed over to your… place," Scandinavia and the World Sweden replied. "We are so sorry."

"No, no, the more the merrier," Tino replied cheerily. "Let's go, then!"

As the Nordics went off in search of Scandinavia and the World Denmark, they could hear the other Nordics talking about them.

"If only you were cheerful like the Finland in this world, Finland," Scandinavia and the World Norway seemed to be saying.

"Perkele," replied Scandinavia and the World Finland.

* * *

"Alexander?" Kriss asked, taking a seat next to him at the Europe table at lunch on Thursday. The Briton looked up, smiling slightly.

"Hello, Kriss," he said, before looking at his plate. "How are you?"

"It could be worse," Kriss replied, blushing.

"Well, that's still not good," Alexander pointed out. "What's wrong?"

"Merka," Kriss replied. "I think she likes me."

"Oh." Alexander raised a moderately thick eyebrow. "You swing that way?"

"Well…" Kriss trailed off awkwardly. "Um…"

"Forget I asked. Do you like her back?"

"Well, yes, but she never tells me that she likes me and I'm too shy to tell her that I like her. Isn't that a problem?"

Alexander frowned. "Yeah, that sounds like a problem," he said.

"So what do I do?" Kriss demanded, staring at him.

Alexander shrugged. "Tell her you like her? I mean, I remember how…" he trailed off, scowling. "Never mind."

"What?" Kriss asked. "Do you remember how you told Jennifer you liked her?"

"Other way around," Alexander replied. "She did it with a card."

Kriss blinked. "Oh," she said after a moment. "That seems discrete enough."

"If you don't have friends chanting 'kiss kiss kiss' as you read it, sure," Alexander pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"That must be awkward," Kriss replied, still blushing. Alexander laughed.

"It was," he said, looking at Kriss with a smile. She felt as if she was melting at the hands of the Sexy British Accent, and coupled with the smile…

From the North America table, Merka and Jennifer exchanged dark glances.

"She likes him more than me, doesn't she," Merka remarked bitterly.

"Don't be like that," Jennifer murmured, but she glared at Alexander as well.

"You're a fat lot of help for a girl who is wallowing in jealousy because her crush is getting hit on by some British kid!"

"Make it a threesome," Jennifer joked. "Everyone'll be happy, ne?"

"Have you ever…?" Merka asked, causing Jennifer to flush a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"No!" she snapped, turning her attentions to the platter of poutine in front of her.

"Are you going to?" Merka asked, grinning wickedly.

"Maybe," Jennifer replied vaguely. "With the right person, in the right circumstances." She was seventeen now, wasn't she? That was way past the age of consent in Spain.

"Good luck with that, then," Merka replied. Jennifer shrugged, looking over at Kitty and Anita at the Asia table. They seemed to be bent over some piece of paper, giggling.

"I don't want to know what Kitty's got in store," she sighed.

* * *

"All right, so now we've got Kriss and Alexander verified… not as a couple, but still." Kitty snickered. "Jennifer seems to be sitting cosy with Merka."

"It's always a possibility," Anita replied, looking over at Megan and Lucia. They were sitting together, but Lucia didn't seem to notice the intense staredown between her alien girlfriend and Andrew Ho.

"Look, some new additions to the Special People group," Kitty remarked suddenly, watching Rinaldia take a spot next to Sabrina and a very androgynous-looking… creature. It seemed to be a cross between a faerie, a unicorn, and a human.

"Who is that?" Anita asked, pointing to the… creature.

"I heard he… or she… or it… is named Mr. Princess Glitter McSparklycorn BalliFarina," Kitty whispered back. "We also have a Dark Angel, a normal angel, a cupid, a HuMAN –"

"Whatever the heck that is," Anita added. "And that's a Vocaloid, right?" she added, pointing to Rinaldia, who was busy shattering windows.

"Yes. We also have a sorceress –" here, Kitty pointed to Laisai Delavie, who was arguing with Laurel Martin, "and… apparently a goddess who eats idiots. But I don't think Sealand would let her do that, so no powers for her. Anyways, that's why she's licking her lips at Katrina Shareen Liew Lay Ee, who's a human idiot."

"Can we call her the chick with the long name? Or at least the _other_ chick with the long name, since Sabrina was the first…"

"Whatever floats your boat, Anita." Kitty frowned. "Then we have the procrastinator –"

"Sealand thought that was a species?" Anita demanded.

"Yeah, apparently," Kitty said, shrugging. "Um, then there's that werewolf we talked about, Enrique Escatara. And Midori Harrison is part-musician. I think Azure's jealous."

"She would be." Anita grinned. "Who's that?"

"This bloke called the Writer," Kitty said, shrugging. "He's a shapeshifter."

"That's not a cheerful idea. What if he turns into something ferocious?" Right now, though, the Writer was busy being a blueberry muffin, so Anita's fears were unfounded for the time being. "Ew, who's _that_?" Anita pointed to a zombie wearing ninja clothing like Akiko Arihima.

"Sam Smith. I swear, she's not related to me," Kitty put up both hands, eyes wide. "I mean, she's a ninja-zombie…"

"Sure. What about the teddy bear?" Anita asked, and Kitty started laughing. "What?"

"That's Gillyflower Calfuray. She put down 'phooka' on her registration form, and Sealand obviously thought of Garfield's teddy bear."

"Oh, Pooky!" Anita sniggered. "That's got to suck!"

"I know, right? Let's see, I think there's one new addition… aha." She pointed to yet another Asian girl with glasses – only this one had glittery wings on her back. "Crystal Xu."

"Crystal Shoe?" Anita asked.

"Something like that, I suppose," Kitty said with a shrug. "I'm not an expert at Chinese pronunciations."

"Yeah, whatever," Anita grumbled. "Okay, that's all the new Special People, right?"

Kitty nodded. "Might be missing some, but I don't know. Now, back to our chart. What else can we verify?"

Anita sniggered, pointing to the three female Alexes. "Think there's something between them?" she asked.

Kitty grinned evilly.


	30. Have Yourself a Very Maudlin Christmas

**Notes:** **FH14** has written a Jen/Workbitch one-shot called "Crack Snap Plunge". Go read it.

IAHF apparently has a graduate school of crack, called the Official Academy of Captalia Fanfiction. Any IAHF students willing to fine-tune their appreciation for the crackier side of Hetalia ought to drop in after graduation and sign up for a few courses. Warning: thar be alpacas and CAPSLOCK. OACF is written by **ScoutingForGuys**.

Also, for those who don't know _Scandinavia and the World_ (which belongs to Humon, btw), any character labelled as SatW [insert country here] or Sister [insert country here] is the _Scandinavia and the World_ counterpart and therefore may not act like the Hetalia character. The most drastic discrepancy would probably be between SatW Finland and Hetalia Finland.

Go vote in the poll on my profile. Those are all of the Student Groups created so far; I will try to get all of them mentioned eventually and create more shippers' clubs. If you already know you're in a certain group, mark it.

* * *

**Part V**

"So the plan failed?"

"Yeah, in a way," Jennifer replied, sighing. "This sucks, because England would have loved the screwdriver."

"We could probably just make some cards," Karin Guarez pointed out.

"We'll just have to make them super special!" Yuri Yamaguchi squealed. "With hearts and glitter and unicorns and –"

"Oh, shut up," Jennifer groaned. It was strange, how a couple of months ago she would have squealed the same thing. Love really made people different.

Love? Maybe it was love. She really didn't know what to call the fluttery feelings she got around Workbitch.

Meanwhile, Yuri Yamaguchi wasn't paying attention. "Ooh, and we should have double rainbows and faeries and kitties and puppies and Flying Mint Bunnies and –"

"We get the point," Kriss groaned, shooting Jennifer an 'is she for_ real_?' look.

"Anyways, Jen, how's your hand?" Merka asked loudly, taking Jennifer's heavily bandaged left hand. "He didn't stab it too badly, did he?"

"Who stabbed you?" everyone else screamed – except Kriss, who rolled her eyes.

"Scandinavia and the World Finland," Jennifer replied.

"Doesn't he, like, have a knife?" Sakura demanded.

"Yeah, and it's really, really, sharp," Merka added.

"No, really," deadpanned Kriss. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm."

"Well, Nurse Florance works wonders," Jennifer pointed out. "So, cards?"

"Yeah, are we making him one big card or a bunch of little ones?" Alexandria Russell asked, clapping her hands excitedly.

"A bunch of little ones, since it's the day before Christmas Eve," Karin suggested.

_And where do we get the stuff_? Luna Correa asked. _For the cards, I mean_.

Silence. And then Tori's eyes lit up.

"Doesn't Italy do art?"

* * *

"So, this is the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction, right?" Scandinavia and the World (or SatW) Sweden asked Tino as they wandered past a giant walking horn. "And what exactly is that creature?"

"Oh, it's Honk Kong," Tino explained. "Spawned just last night. It likes honking obnoxiously at fangirls."

"What?" the SatW Nations demanded. Well, all except SatW Finland, who just looked surprised.

"Wait, that thing came from a misspelling?" SatW Norway demanded, almost dropping his fish in shock. "That…" he looked over at SatW Sweden. "Don't get any ideas," he warned.

"Not getting them," SatW Sweden said, but SatW Norway didn't seem to be convinced.

"Can you tell us a bit about your Denmark?" Norway asked SatW Norway. Both Norways seemed to get along pretty well, mostly since one of them tamed mythological creatures and the other tamed animals. They had been trading tips in rapid-fire Norwegian right until the Honk Kong incident.

"Well, he's loud and boisterous," SatW Norway began.

"And drunk," SatW Sweden pitched in. "And horny."

"Sounds like me," Demark remarked innocently. Norway sent him an exasperated glare.

"And he's deathly afraid of snow and butterflies and basically anything wild," SatW Norway finished. "Do you know anyone in your world that might fit that description? Maybe Denmark's with him or her."

The Nordics exchanged glances. "Francis," they all said in unison.

"Who?" SatW Norway and Sweden asked.

"Representative of France," Tino explained. "He's a drunk pervert most of the time."

"Yeah, he can be serious if he wants to, but he rarely wants to be serious."

"He's always going on and on about liberty, equality, and fraternity when he's serious."

"Here's his room, by the way." Iceland had said that as they stopped outside a door with a picture of the Eiffel tower on it. The plaque read: LA CHAMBRE DE FRANCIS BONNEFOIS. ENTREZ SI VOUS VOULEZ AVOIR UN BON TEMPS.

"Only he would put that on his door," Tino remarked, pointing to the plaque and the picture.

"You can read French?" SatW Norway wondered aloud. Tino shook his head.

"No, but Matthew translated it for me once. It says 'Francis's room. Enter if you want to have a good time'."

"That does sound like the room Denmark would go to," SatW Sweden sighed.

They knocked at the door. Moments later, Francis opened it.

"What is it?" he demanded. "I'm a bit busy here."

"Have you seen our Denmark?" SatW Norway asked. "He wears the Danish flag."

Francis frowned. "Non, I haven't. You could try l'Angleterre's room. That English pervert might know."

"Excuse me?" another voice declared from behind. Tino and Denmark poked their heads into the room. Inside was a dark-haired man with a monocle, tied to the bed and clearly struggling to get free. "You bastard!"

"England! What are you doing in there?" SatW Sweden demanded, looking horrified. "Is he raping you?"

"I'm pretty sure he will if you don't get me out of here!" SatW England snapped, wriggling in his bonds.

"England!" yet another voice exclaimed, and moments later, a tanned blond man with the American flag on his shirt poked his head into the room as well. "Oh my gosh, you guys, we have to get him free!"

"We figured as much, America," snapped SatW Sweden.

"What are we going to do?" SatW America demanded.

"Use Finland's knife?" SatW Norway suggested. SatW Finland hid the knife behind his back. "Finland, give America the knife. He needs to use it to free England."

SatW Finland growled. Francis rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, you all just interrupted me while I was in the important act of –"

"RAPE IS NOT AN IMPORTANT ACT, YOU BLOODY FRENCH TOSSER!" SatW England howled.

"He acts _just_ like Arthur," Denmark whistled.

"England's in trouble, you guys!" SatW America exclaimed. "Come on, we've got to save him. On the count of three, we rush in there and get him free, okay? One, two, three, let's go! LEEEROY JEEEEENKINS!" The American thundered into the room, knocked Francis into the dresser, and yanked SatW England out of his bonds.

"You idiot, you just gave me rope burn!" SatW England snapped.

"I'm sorry, daddy!" SatW America bawled.

"I appreciate you rescuing me, son, but you could have just untied the damn rope," SatW England grumbled, gingerly rubbing his wrists and looking at the Nordics in the hallway.

"Well, if you are just going to steal my entertainment, then out! Out!" Francis suddenly snapped, and without further ado, the entire group was back in the hallway.

"How did you get in there in the first place?" SatW Sweden asked as they continued down the hall.

SatW England shrugged. "Woke up in there. Must the French always be so –"

"Lovely rivalry, no?" Norway sighed. "Let's pay Arthur a visit, then, since Francis didn't have your Denmark with him."

"Yeah, Arthur's the personification of England, too," Denmark added, causing SatW England to look up interestedly.

"Does he like tea and crumpets?" the dark-haired Englishman asked interestedly.

"Loves them, even if they're radioactive," Denmark replied. They took a left at a fork and stopped at a door that bore the plaque 'ARTHUR KIRKLAND: ABSOLUTELY INVINCIBLE BRITISH GENTLEMAN'. But before they could knock, the door opened and Alfred came storming out.

"It's not my fault that the plothole opened, geez! You're such an old man, Artie!" Alfred screamed. SatW America raised both eyebrows.

"That was Alfred F. Jones, personification of America," Norway explained, causing SatW America's eyes to light up.

"Hey! Hey! American guy! Wait for me!" he yelled, charging after Alfred. That left the rest to enter Arthur's room. There was no SatW Denmark in sight.

"Arthur? What happened?" Tino asked curiously. Arthur looked up from his desk, raising both thick eyebrows at all the Nordics – and one monocle-wearing Englishman.

"Just Alfred being an idiot. Do you think he opened the crossover plothole?" Arthur asked, still looking at SatW England with interest.

"I don't think so," Tino replied. "I mean… it might seem like the kind of stuff he would do, but I don't think he'd lie to you on purpose, either."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. What are you lot doing in my room, anyways?"

"We're looking for Denmark," SatW Norway said. "He wears the Danish flag."

"I think I saw a bloke wearing the Danish flag talking to Kiku about an hour ago, after breakfast," Arthur said.

"Thank you," SatW Norway replied. Arthur nodded, and looked back at SatW England again. "We'll be going, then."

"I'll stay here," SatW England piped up. "Not often that I get to catch up with a fellow Englishman."

"We'll leave you here, then," SatW Sweden said as they left. Before the door closed, the Nordics heard Arthur ask SatW England if he would rather have Earl Grey or Darjeeling.

"They'll probably take to each other like a house on fire," SatW Norway remarked.

"Well, I know England likes his refined company, so…" SatW Sweden nodded. "Well, let's go find this 'Kiku' person he was talking about."

* * *

SatW Denmark, however, was not with Kiku, although he had been talking to Kiku before. The Japanese man had been very interested about his shenanigans with SatW Netherlands; by the time SatW Denmark had left Kiku's company, the other was talking to Sister Japan and Sister America about yaoi and yuri.

SatW Denmark had then bumped into SatW Prussia (SatW Prussia didn't look excited about meeting him again), and then both of them had bumped into Gilbert Beilschmidt. Now they were closeted in Gilbert's room, reading fanfiction.

But not just any fanfiction. Gilbert apparently had a collection of the most horrible pornfics in all of the Hetalia fandom.

"Oh, and these," the albino Prussian added, tossing a giant stack of papers on the floor. "These are the stories that those students wrote during their sex ed class. They had to write about themselves. Wanna read them?"

"I think Austria might be interested in these stories," SatW Prussia drawled. He had taken off his giant plumed hat and was reading a fanfiction involving Gilbert, Roderich, and lots of whipped cream, strawberries, and fuzzy handcuffs.

"Nah, Roddy's got a stick up his arse," Gilbert dismissed.

"Oh, come off it," SatW Denmark snickered. "_Our_ Austria likes filming Germany in compromising situations."

Gilbert goggled at SatW Denmark. "No way!" he exclaimed. "I need to see some of these awesome tapes!"

"Yeah, those are interesting," SatW Prussia yawned. "Not as cool as the stuff that Sister Sweden does with Finland, though."

"Our Sweden and Finland never really go on camera," Gilbert said thoughtfully. "Well, if they do they don't do it on purpose…"

"Sister Sweden makes the hottest tapes," SatW Denmark declared. "She's got these huge boobs and lips and she sleeps with everyone."

"Wonder how Finland even managed to sleep with her in the first place," SatW Prussia added thoughtfully. "He's very grumpy, isn't he?"

The door to their room suddenly banged open as several people charged inside, eyes wide with panic. Slamming the door shut, SatW Sweden suddenly noticed SatW Denmark sitting there.

"You!" he screeched, pointing a finger. "Led us all on a wild goose chase throughout this school! What are you doing?"

"Reading stuff that's even more awesome than you," Gilbert replied, flipping off SatW Sweden. The bespectacled Swede looked about ready to commit murder.

"Calm down, Sweden," SatW Norway hissed.

"Norway!" SatW Denmark cheered, bouncing up and hugging his Norwegian friend. "Come over here and meet Gilbert! He's the awesome Prussia!"

"And what am I, cannon fodder?" SatW Prussia demanded. "You couldn't even say 'Prussia is awesome' in German."

Gilbert snickered. "Whatever. So, what brings everyone into my awesome room? Wanted to read awesome fanfiction?"

"Estonia's after us," SatW Sweden said.

"Pshaw, Estonia's harmless. He's just a white and nerdy kid," Gilbert dismissed.

"No, Gilbo, it's _their_ Estonia," hissed Tino. "She's obsessed with becoming a Nordic." Sure enough, the door started to rattle as someone pounded it on the other side.

A muffled voice could be heard: "Let me in! I wanna party with the cute Nordics! I've got vodka!"

"Wow, Belarus much?" Gilbert wondered aloud, folding his arms and staring at the door.

"I'm so glad our Estonia's not like that," Denmark whispered to Norway. SatW Denmark and SatW Norway were cowering in a corner.

"I wanna party with the cute Nordics!" SatW Estonia bawled from the other side of the door, as Eduard Von Bock watched, eyes horrified.

* * *

Friday heralded an avalanche of photo requests, and Tino found himself sorting out all the requests with several of his colleagues. And the SatW Nations helped, too – couldn't forget them, now that they seemed to have moved into the Staff Section for the time being.

"Arthur, honestly, stop flashing googly eyes at SatW England," Tino complained in the middle of a request sorting session. "I don't care if you slept with him last night. Just…" he groaned, feeling the beginnings of a migraine.

"T'll 'll b' 'v'r s'n," Berwald Øxenstierna said consolingly, patting his shoulder. "S'tW Sw'd'n, h'v' y' f'n'sh'd th' l'st?"

"Er…" SatW Sweden really didn't know what to make of his counterpart's vowel-phobic way of speaking. "Yes, I have a list of requests for student pictures… and the Staff picture list will be up soon, I hope."

"Thank you," Tino said, taking the list. "Er, Yekaterina? Can you deliver this to the helpers just outside the Staff Section?"

Before noon, the lists had all been sorted out and everyone quickly went off in search of photo opportunities.

"Look what we have," Sister America said to Sister Japan as they left the room with cameras and a list of photos to take. "Denmark giving Norway a hug – AWWW, THAT'S SO CUTE!"

"Yes, that does sound very cute, Lady America," Sister Japan said demurely. "What is this USUK that I keep on seeing on the list?"

"I dunno," Sister America sighed. "It looks like… aw hell naw, she's my mommy!"

"Excuse me?" Sister Japan asked.

"They probably want to see America with England!" Sister America replied. "Which means I'll have to pose with Sister England, and she's my mom. That's not cute at all!" The blonde pouted; the little Chihuahua on her head looked rather put off as well.

"I think they mean the America and England that currently live at this school, Lady America," Sister Japan reasoned, blushing at the thought. She had seen Alfred and Arthur at breakfast – and the yaoi cogs were turning in her head already.

In fact, it seemed as if all the men at this school were sleeping with each other. That thought nearly made Sister Japan faint from happiness.

"Ooh, so that means that we can only take pictures of people from this world, right?" Sister America asked. "Hm, but I wouldn't mind seeing Daddy taking on Spain…" She continued to read, and then started frowning. "Switzerland and Liechtenstein? We don't even have a Liechtenstein – oh, right, they do. Yeah, I totally knew that."

"Canada and Russia under the mistletoe?" Sister Japan asked suddenly, frowning. "But…"

They paused. "This might take a while, I think," Sister America groaned, and it was the smartest thing she had said all day.

* * *

SatW Denmark was far too amused with the photo requests. "It's too bad that we're only taking pictures of you lot, because I wanna see our Finland in a maid costume with high heels and fishnet stockings," he giggled as SatW Austria set up the cameras.

"Oh, hush," Arthur snapped at the Dane as he stepped onto the stage with Feliciano, Kiku, Matthew, and Tino. All of them were wearing identical skimpy maid outfits. Francis and Ludwig had fake blood painted all over their faces. "Shut _up_!" the thick-browed Englishman exclaimed at SatW England, who had just wolf whistled.

"I think we need to do our own version of this, oh yes, I definitely do," SatW Netherlands cackled. "And then we can give the picture to Sister Japan."

"If that's so, we need Germany on the stage," SatW Denmark replied as he took a swig of beer.

"Quiet on the set," SatW Austria called, eyes glinting manically as he adjusted the lens. "Eins, zwei, drei…"

Everyone smiled for the camera – but if you looked at the maids, they all seemed to have very forced, serial killer-like smiles.

"Gut, gut. Second take, in case someone blinked –"

"Damn you, SatW Austria. Damn you to hell," Arthur hissed.

"Ich liebe Dich auch," SatW Austria replied innocently, twirling his blond moustache. "Eins, zwei, drei…"

"He's a sadist," complained Matthew as they posed for yet another picture. "He probably wants to humiliate us…"

"Who are you again?" SatW Austria demanded.

"Canada…" Matthew pouted.

"Wow, it's not just us," Arthur whispered to Kiku.

"Shut up!" Matthew exclaimed petulantly, causing the other 'maids' to look at each other worriedly.

"There, there, Matthew-san," Kiku soothed. "Arthur-san's just being a bully."

"I was pointing out an observation, for Godssakes," Arthur grumbled.

"Silence. One more take, before we switch to… uh…" SatW Austria consulted his list. "North Italy sobbing and hugging Germany, while South Italy aims a gun at Germany's head."

The Italians and Ludwig groaned.

* * *

"We have to catch America drunk," SatW Sweden said, as SatW Norway fiddled with the camera. "Where's Denmark?"

"Here!" SatW Denmark called, appearing with several bottles of beer. "Where's their America?"

"Probably being a hat for our America," SatW Sweden said sarcastically.

They came across Alfred in his room, playing video games. "Hey, you're America, right?" SatW Denmark asked.

"Hell, yeah, I'm the hero!" Alfred exclaimed, flashing them a wink and a smile. "So, what's up?"

"We're gonna give you language lessons!" SatW Denmark exclaimed. "We tried this with our America once, and he ended up speaking Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian! Okay, say 'Rødgrød med fløde'!"

"What?" Alfred demanded.

"Just say it," SatW Norway encouraged.

"All right…" Alfred shot them a strange look before saying, "Roedgroed meed floode."

"Now try saying it with a potato in your mouth," SatW Sweden added, snickering. Still looking sceptical, Alfred put the potato in his mouth.

"Rog grog meg flaog," he tried to say around the potato, and SatW Norway and SatW Sweden grinned.

"Perfect Danish!" they exclaimed in unison, as SatW Denmark took out eight bottles of beer.

"Right, drink these and say that with the potato in your mouth."

Alfred tried to complain, but he couldn't talk around the potato. And the beer looked good, so he started drinking. One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…

Soon, Alfred F. Jones was drunk and it hadn't even been noon yet.

"Roga grouiga me flouiga!" he said as he finished the eighth bottle.

"Perfect Swedish," SatW Denmark snickered, as SatW Norway took out the camera. "Now try singing it!"

"Roga grouiga me flouiga!" Alfred sang, and SatW Norway snapped several pictures.

"Perfect Norwegian," SatW Denmark finished. "Cheers, Alfred! Hope you like the hangover!" And cackling, they disposed of the potato and went on their merry way.

"Next on the list," SatW Sweden declared. "A… naked hot girl."

"We could use your sister," SatW Denmark suggested.

"We can't use our Nations," SatW Norway reminded. A far-off bouncing noise reminded them that Sister Sweden wasn't the only big-chested girl around.

"Aha, _their_ Ukraine!" SatW Denmark crowed. "All right, boys, watch and learn." He winked and strutted off to where Yekaterina stood. SatW Norway and SatW Sweden looked at each other and followed hesitantly.

* * *

"Hey, hey, I want a picture!" Willow squealed, waving her camera threateningly as she bore down on Kriss and Merka. "Pose for me, all right?"

"Is this for Heta Streeem?" Merka asked, frowning.

"Yeah, of course. Just smile together, okay?"

"If you say so," Kriss grumbled, and both girls smiled for exactly ten seconds.

"Thank you!" Willow giggled, bouncing away with the camera. "You two are awesome! Merry Christmas!"

"Cheerful," Kriss sighed as the other fangirl went off to harass Taylor Drews-Garcia and Mike Hawk. She promptly turned her back on Merka, blushing furiously. The USUK fangirl looked majorly confused.

"Kriss, did… did I do something wrong?" Merka asked concernedly.

"It's nothing," Kriss replied grouchily.

"Hey, you guys!" Loki Shadow Reave stumbled into the dining hall, cackling. "I just met Scandinavia and the World Denmark!"

"What?" exclaimed several people.

Loki grinned. "Yeah, apparently someone opened the crossover plothole and now there's _Scandinavia and the World_ characters in the school! I wonder who else appears."

"Excuse me, coming through! Make way for John Bull, dammit! Are you deaf, children? I'm trying to get through!" A rotund man with a Union Jack waistcoat was suddenly squeezing his way through the crowd of students. "Can anyone take me to the manager of this place; I have a couple of strongly-worded opinions I'd like to share!"

"Lay off the complaints, Johnny," a tall, skinny old man with an American flag hat exclaimed. "I'm sure one of these lovely students can help us…"

"Uncle Sam, I honestly don't think –"

"Look who else showed up," Jennifer plopped down into the seat across from Kriss and Merka, jabbing her fork at John Bull and Uncle Sam. "Official National personifications."

"Fabulous," Kriss deadpanned.

"Well, Mother Canada's cute, too," Sara Parker pointed out, as a brunette woman dressed in white appeared out of nowhere and followed the personifications of America and England out the hall. She was followed quickly by a dark-haired woman wearing a Phrygian cap and a Tricolour dress. A rooster sat on her shoulder, squawking as his owner ran after Mother Canada.

"Who's that chick?" Merka wondered.

"Marianne," Kriss replied. "Personification of the French government."

* * *

Mr. Allen goggled at the reports and camera feeds. "At least…" he whispered, "it's only National personifications."

"So far," Ninja Kiku replied. He and Pirate Arthur had been forced to make out under the mistletoe for about half an hour as Sister America took pictures and Sister Japan nosebled – naturally, he was looking more twitchy and paranoid than usual.

"So far?" echoed Mr. Allen. "You mean to say that there are more?"

"I could have sworn I saw a demonic butler running around," Ninja Kiku replied innocently.

"Fuck," swore Mr. Allen. "This is bad. I need to see Arthur about sealing off the plothole. I'm sure he knows how; he's just not telling me."

Ninja Kiku rolled his eyes. "The crossover mayhem is not serious right now, I think, other than filling out all the extra rooms in the Staff Section."

"But it can become serious very quickly if we don't stop," Mr. Allen replied. "Some of our own may be taken to… the other side."

"I understand," Ninja Kiku said, bowing. "We'll have to figure out how to close the plothole and then reverse its effects."

"Exactly, Ninja Kiku." Mr. Allen nodded. "Now excuse me, there's a party I have to attend."

* * *

The Christmas party took place, once again, in the Entrance Hall and the General Meeting Room. Students socialised outside next to the giant Christmas tree, and inside next to tables upon tables of food and drinks.

"Joyeux Noël!" Francis exclaimed as he plied Ivan with wine. Alfred (still slightly out of it from the 'language lesson' that morning) was stuffing his face with bright blue cake. Arthur and SatW England were talking in hushed voices.

"Let's see how much this chart changes after tonight," Kitty cackled, unfolding a sheet of paper with the relationship chart scrawled all over it in sparkly pink pen. "Who's betting that Lucia and Megan are going to split tonight?"

Immediately some students started placing bets on several of the pairings on the chart. "A box of truffles on Jennifer finally sleeping with Workbitch," Hotaru suggested, grinning evilly.

"I'll see that and raise you the last can of whipped cream," Kitty replied.

"Anyone want some Bûche de Noël?" Shelby asked, holding up what seemed to be a log with mushrooms on it.

"What the heck is that?" Falaba Witch asked.

"Traditional French Christmas cake," Shelby explained, cutting Falaba some. "It's really good."

_Francis baked it_, Charley Maytha added.

"Give me another slice, then," Falaba demanded.

Kriss entered the room and took a seat next to Alexander, who was already eating with great gusto. "Food's good?" she asked him, causing him to look up.

"Oh, yes, yes," he said through a mouthful of plum pudding, covering his mouth as he did so. "Excellent nosh."

"I might have to get some," Kriss replied thoughtfully, twirling a few strands of hair around a finger. She looked across the room at Merka, who was talking to Lucia Verdas with a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Where's Jennifer? Being a Grinch?" Alexander asked after he had swallowed.

"I dunno." Kriss shrugged, innocently letting her hand trail across the table until it rested next to Alexander's hand. She never looked away from Merka, though.

"It'd be something she'd do. Gods, she was so immature," Alexander grumped before continuing to eat. "Throwing a fit when I said I didn't want anything for Christmas. Expecting me to ask her to Winter Formal." He soon decided that it would be better just to finish the pudding before he started talking, so Kriss was left wondering what else Jennifer had done to him.

Holiday songs suddenly blared out of the speakers. Currently the tune was 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas', and Staff and students alike took to the dance floor. A great number of Anglophiles looked put off at Arthur dancing with Belgium, but a greater number of Franada fans started squealing at Policeman Francis and Mountie Matthew.

Even the visiting National personifications seemed to be enjoying the party. Francis was busy chatting with Marianne and SatW France. Sister Netherlands was dancing with Matthew. Kiku and Sister America were engrossed in a debate about the merits of Denmark/Norway. SatW America and Rose Kirkland (Arthur's genderbent counterpart) were snogging under the mistletoe; SatW America looked slightly panicked and Rose looked irritated.

"Those young'uns," Uncle Sam remarked from a seat not too far away from Kriss and Alexander. "With their young love… makes me feel like I'm growin' up again!" John Bull looked mildly ticked at that comment, harrumphing and puffing on a cigar (he had stolen it from Cuba).

Kriss sighed and looked down at the table. "I'm going to get some stuff to eat," she said suddenly, getting up and walking over to the tables piled with food.

* * *

Jennifer stared at herself in the mirror. "Er…" she said, looking out of the corner of her eye at Megan, who was half-dressed and sitting next to a stupidly grinning Andrew Ho.

"You look great, Jen!" Megan exclaimed. "Don't give me that look."

"This dress is too short," Jennifer complained, tugging at the hem of her little black dress. "And my face looks fat when it's done up like this."

"Stop complaining," Andrew suggested.

"Get dressed," Jennifer retorted.

"We'll come down later," Megan replied. "Now come over here and let me do your makeup, girl. I honestly don't know how a seventeen-year-old girl can live not knowing how to properly apply eyeliner and mascara…" The alien girl clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Keep your eyes open."

Jennifer found it extremely hard to do that, since every time the eyeliner pencil got too close her eyes squeezed shut. "This is why I don't wear contacts," she complained.

"Oh, shut up," Megan sighed, flinging the pencil across the room. "You can borrow my black high heels."

Jennifer found herself wobbling down the hallway, then, wearing Megan's black trench coat over Megan's little black dress. The alien obviously had more fashion sense than she did, and part of Jennifer envied her roommate for that.

The trip to the main building was disastrous. Jennifer fell in the snow at least three times as she went along, wondering why they never shovelled the snow around here. Once inside, she nearly fell on her arse after those nearly frozen heels slipped on the linoleum.

"Next time, I'm wearing flats," she promised herself as she stumbled into the party.

"Oh, hey, look what the cats dragged in," Merka teased as Jennifer stumbled over to where she was with Lucia. "Why so dressed up, Jen?"

"None of your business," Jennifer replied, blushing furiously. "Just…" she took a sip of champagne and gagged. "Ew! It's like grapes just crawled into your glass and _died_!"

"That's pretty much what they did," Lucia remarked, giggling. "You seen Meggie anywhere?"

"She's coming later," Jennifer mumbled, wondering what the mermaid would say to Megan's infidelity. "Excuse me, I'm going to go stuff my face with food. To calm the nerves."

"Take care, fatty," Merka joked, daringly jabbing at Jennifer's almost lack of waistline.

"Oh, shut up," Jennifer snapped, blushing. "You're obviously drunk."

"Yeah, drunk on bubbly," giggled the USUK fangirl. Jennifer rolled her eyes and wobbled over to the food table, nearly slipping up and faceplanting in the mashed potatoes.

Thank the Powers that Be for her forced sobriety.

After eating until she felt bloated (she had an unfortunate tendency to do that at parties), Jennifer stumbled around the room trying to get rid of the extra calories. She bumped into a drunk and gropey SatW Denmark; after slapping his hands away from her bum, she stumbled on and nearly collided with SatW Sweden and Åland. They probably would have killed her for ruining their romantic moment, so Jennifer started thanking every single deity she knew off the top of her head for not being _that_ uncoordinated in high heels.

She had just thanked Aphrodite and Amateratsu twice when she looked up to see Megan and Andrew race into the hall, laughing. And then in full view of everyone – including a surprised and not-drunk-enough Lucia – they started making out.

"Hand it over, hand it over, I fucking won this bet," someone called from a corner, waving over Kitty Smith. Anita Khok was gleefully editing the sparkly pink chart of relationships. Lucia had dropped her glass of champagne, looking on the verge of tears.

"Meggie, how could you?" the mermaid cried, but the alien continued to play tonsil hockey with Andrew Ho. "Oh, if that's the way you want it, Meggie, then take this!" And with all the drama of a drunk llama, Lucia flung her arms about a very drunk Merka and kissed her.

"Whoa, whoa, what?" Kriss demanded from the other side of the room, and all the students looked at her. The domino effect had carried over to Kriss, it seemed. "Merka, what… OH FUCK THIS, I'M HIGH OFF SUGAR." And she grabbed Alexander by the collar and started snogging him.

Jennifer started snickering at the ludicrousness of the situation. Even the Staff and the guests looked gleeful about the latest developments – SatW Denmark was wolf whistling like there was no tomorrow.

"Who's next?" Kitty demanded eagerly, as Anita scribbled away and students forked over belongings to the people who won the bets. "I'm looking at you, Taylor."

Sure enough, Taylor Drews-Garcia looked very put off about Alexander snogging a girl. And as if to revenge himself on a crush who didn't even notice him, he snaked a devious arm around Franklin Mycroft Livingston, who promptly flushed bright red. Carolina Brown noticed that and hid her face in her hands; Dorothy patted her back consolingly.

"What in the world is going on?" Jennifer heard someone say from behind her; she turned around and saw Workbitch standing there observing the mayhem with raised eyebrows.

"Well…" Jennifer then launched into a rapid-fire summary. "Apparently Kriss and Merka liked each other, but they both liked Alexander as well, so things are really awkward between them. Now Megan cheated on Lucia with Andrew Ho, and they ran in here and started making out, so in revenge Lucia started kissing Merka. And then Kriss saw, so she started snogging Alexander. Then Taylor Drews-Garcia saw and he apparently has a boner for Alexander, so now he's hitting on Franklin. And poor Carolina's just… sad." She paused. "TL; DR: dramallama."

"I see," Workbitch replied. He smiled at her. "You look nice."

"Seriously? I fell in the snow like… a thousand times."

"You're also very self-deprecating," Workbitch pointed out bluntly. "Shall we go?"

"Let me take off these damn heels, then," Jennifer replied, slipping off the shoes. "Now we're leaving."

Workbitch smiled; Jennifer felt her heart melt at that. Arm-in-arm, they left the party and walked to the Staff Section.

A sprig of mistletoe hung over the entrance. Jennifer blushed, looking away. Workbitch tilted her head back up, smiling crookedly as he did.

And because the mistletoe tradition dictated it, they kissed.


	31. The Morning After

**Notes: **WE'RE NO STRANGERS TO LOVE. YOU KNOW THE RULES, AND SO DO I. A FULL COMMITMENT'S WHAT I'M THINKING OF; YOU WOULDN'T GET THIS FROM ANY OTHER GUY. I JUST WANNA TELL YOU HOW I'M FEELING, GOTTA MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND…

NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP; NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN. NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU. NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY; NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE. NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU.

WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR SO LONG; YOUR HEART'S BEEN ACHING BUT YOU'RE TOO SHY TO SAY IT. INSIDE WE BOTH KNOW WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON; WE KNOW THE GAME AND WE'RE GONNA PLAY IT. AND IF YOU ASK ME HOW I'M FEELING, DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE TOO BLIND TO SEE…

NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP; NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN. NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU. NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY; NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE. NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU.

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS' DAY, FOLKS. YOU JUST LOST THE GAME.

**Okay, the actual notes:** It's funny that Rick Astley's song could actually apply to the dramallama going on right now.

* * *

**Part VI**

The Staff had the bright idea of putting all of the Heta Streeem photos out on a table for students to pick up. That bright idea quickly dimmed as students swamped said table, grabbing the wrong photos and squabbling over the 'hot' ones. Apparently, some of them had requested multiple pictures, too.

Nearly every pairing ended up with a snapshot, but the Giripan fans threw a fit when they saw that their picture was just of Heracles and Kiku talking to each other. Akiko Arihima and Roksana Abdullah, on the other hand, looked ridiculously pleased with their Asakiku pictures.

"Look, look, they're so cute!" squealed Roksana, pointing to Arthur's lame attempt at a fobby peace sign. "With their arms around each other and those smiles!"

"I have the Bled Pinja makeout picture," cackled Akiko.

"That was mine!" Ru Tsuna cried petulantly, but Akiko was already on the ceiling. "Meanie! Give it back!"

"We have another copy," Sister America called, handing Ru another picture. Pirate Arthur glowered ominously.

"Yay, now I have Sadiq with one of Heracles's cats on his head, _and_ the Bled Pinjas!"

"But that's not fair; you got multiple requests!" whined Emmanuella Escatara, who nonetheless clutched her picture of a drunken Alfred with a potato in his mouth protectively to her chest.

"They never said that there was a limit," Loki Shadow Reave pointed out smugly as she held up three pictures.

"Whoa, how'd they catch that picture of Charlie at Mr. Allen's window?" Kitty demanded, grabbing one of the photos and staring at it. "Man, that's some intense photography."

"Wah, Kitty, go ogle your own picture of Jennifer and Workbitch," Loki grumbled, sticking her tongue out at Kitty.

Meanwhile at the table, Karen DuLay and Kiri Olaveja had actually broken out into a fight over a picture of Ludwig. Quickly, the Mochis jumped into the fray and blobbed all over the two fangirls. The new Karen at the school, Karen Eva Saghieh, rolled her eyes and grabbed the Ludwig photo while the others were too busy trying to extricate themselves from the Mochi cocoon.

"Ludwig scares me," Karen Saghieh pointed out randomly as she compared the contested-over picture to her own picture of Alfred wrapped in the American flag.

"Uh…hey, Mad Karen Disease," Andrew Ho called. "Your heart just…"

"Yeah, I know," Karen Saghieh replied, reinserting the organ nonchalantly, while everyone else looked grossed out. "It happens a lot to me." She paused. "WAIT A MOMENT, ANDREW YOU HO!"

"YOU'RE MAD KAREN DISEASE!" Andrew retorted.

"You know what?" Megan exclaimed randomly. "Andrew and I are adopting you, Karen!"

"WHAT? THE HERO DOES NOT GET – "

"I'M YOUR NEW MUMMY NOW, SO DO AS I SAY!" the alien screeched.

The other students looked at each other as if to say 'these loonies have obviously met before'.

"So… anyone want to see my Spamano picture?" Cristiana Moretti asked weakly.

"Wait, since when did these get taken?" Lucia suddenly demanded. She was pointing to a series of pictures of France streaking through the halls. "Wait… they caught him molesting me as well? But why are the Mochis…" she paused, sniffling. "I'm going to have to burn my picture…"

"Aw yeah, USUK," Merka added with a drunken giggle from next to her, grinning at her picture. Across the table, Kriss pointedly ignored her and continued to look for her Asakiku picture.

"Eww, USUK," Crystal Xu complained from not too far away. She brandished her picture gleefully. "USCan!"

"No! USUK!" Merka whined, hiccupping slightly.

"You're drunk!"

"I may be drunk now," slurred Merka, "but in the morning I'll – hic – be sober and you'll still be ugly!"

Silence. "Merka, let's go," Lucia suggested, taking the drunk USUK fangirl by the arm and hauling her out of the room, shooting Megan a vindictive glance.

Kriss glowered at the mermaid and then turned to Alexander, smirking. Said smirk would have made any femme fatale proud, but Alexander seemed to be more oblivious than an upside-down turnip.

Moments later, the party rolled on without Kriss, Merka, Alexander, Jennifer, or Lucia.

* * *

Saturday was Christmas Day, and most of IAHF's denizens spent the morning sleeping. Some were hung-over. Others were in the wrong rooms.

Jennifer, for example, woke up wondering why her bed was suddenly so soft and spacious. For a moment, she let her hand trail lazily across the duvet; her eyes snapped open in alarm when her hand encountered another hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, not good," she said to herself, bolting upright. "I just woke up in an unfamiliar bed and there's another…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the other occupant of the bed. "Oh, _damn_."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the school, Kriss woke up to see Alexander sleeping next to her. "Trolololo," she muttered to herself, before snickering. To an invisible Merka, she added, "you mad?"

And of course, Merka woke to see Lucia already snoozing in a tub of water at the foot of her bed. She panicked for a moment – bad idea, since she was hung-over as well – and then remembered that Lucia and Megan had broken up. "Fuck you, sunlight," she snapped, flipping the bird at the window. Lucia's belongings had already been moved into Merka's room. The USUK fangirl looked at the Stephen Colbert punching pillow and groaned. "This is going to be a _long _relationship," she muttered to the ceiling, and unfortunately, she didn't mean that the good way.

But back to Jennifer. The other occupant of the bed was stirring already, and Jennifer bit her lower lip nervously as he opened his eyes.

"Happy Christmas?" she asked weakly, and Workbitch Bartholomew laughed, leaning in to kiss her.

"Happy Christmas to you, too," he replied when they broke apart.

"I like you better with mussed hair," Jennifer remarked mischievously. "Well, you look nice with slicked-back hair, but mussed hair…" she giggled, ruffling his hair some more. "It's like… dark-haired Ludwig!"

"Less muscular and intimidating, I hope," he added.

"Yeah, and more British," Jennifer giggled.

Workbitch ran his fingers through his hair before raising himself up on an elbow, his dark eyes unreadable. Jennifer shivered slightly, only partly from the cold.

"You know, most of you guys have some sort of erogenous zone," she said suddenly. "Do you think you have one?"

"I'm not a Nation," Workbitch replied bluntly.

"You'd still have a sensitive spot somewhere, yes?" Jennifer asked breathlessly, her eyes widening at the growing smirk on the secretary's face.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he whispered huskily in her ear. And then…

"Fuck! Not fair! You _know_ my neck is sensitive – aaugh! – don't stop!"

* * *

"We are all going to sit according to _this_ seating arrangement," SatW Sweden announced at breakfast as the IAHF Staff and their numerous guests filed into the room and found their places, "or I will track down the violators and brutally use our Finland's knife on them."

"Yeah, no one messes with Sweden's mealtime plans," SatW Norway pointed out, trembling in his seat.

Mr. Hugh, who had been placed at the head of the table (his usual seat anyways), sent a grateful smile at SatW Sweden. "Right, then. Looks like my secretary's not here."

"What's up with him?" Alfred asked. The other minor Hetalia characters simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"He's in love with a _student_," mocked Janice. The Pict Princess, floating in a sparkly green bubble, snickered.

"You don't say!" exclaimed Francis. "Ah, to feel the sting of forbidden love!"

"It's not _forbidden_," Mr. Hugh bit out. "Just… stigmatised."

"You don't approve, do you?" Arthur asked, discreetly holding SatW England's hand under the table.

"She is a _student_," Mr. Hugh replied grouchily. "A fanbrat."

"Can we talk about something else?" Gilbert demanded suddenly. "Like… these fanfics! I promised I'd share them at Christmas! So… take one and pass the stack down."

"At breakfast?" demanded Elisabeta. "Gilbo, you'll make Roderich lose his appetite!"

"It's his fault that his stomach is such a pussy," Gilbert replied, winking at SatW Austria.

The Mochis bounced in with the food, and everyone started helping themselves to pancakes, bread, and assorted other breakfast foods. As they ate, some of the more daring Nations started reading the fanfics.

"Oh my god," Vietnam piped up suddenly. "Listen to this. 'Lucia started passionately kissing Megan, and it was so passionate that they saw stars burst before their eyes. This moment was magical, and both wished it would last forever.' I give no points for originality."

"How about this one, da-ze?" Im Yong-Soo asked. "Karen DuLay was one of the sexiest girls at a nightclub called the Drunk German. Every night, she danced in a super-short dirndl for cheering masses."

"Wait, what?" Ludwig spluttered, as Gilbert snickered and SatW Germany hid his face in his hands.

"This one is better," Arthur snickered. "It was World War Two, and Karen DuLay was at a Nazi rally, hoping to catch a glimpse of this one SS officer known as Ludwig Beilschmidt. Little did she know that she would end up spending the night with – SatW Germany, are you all right?" the Englishman called, as SatW Germany curled into the foetal position and shook with tears.

"Never forget. Never repeat. Never forget. Never repeat. Never forget. Never repeat," the brunet German chanted.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about… you-know-whats, then," Arthur sighed.

Feliciano looked up from his fanfic. "Wait, Luddy, what's double penetration?"

Ludwig immediately turned bright red. Lovino whispered something in Feliciano's ear, and the Italian's eyes actually opened and grew to saucer size.

"Doesn't that hurt, ve?"

"Well, what does the fic say about it?" Ludwig asked stiffly, his face still mimicking a beet.

"It's really strange," Feliciano replied. "Something about Taylor Drews-Garcia, Mike Hawk, and Charlie Tenterden."

Mr. Hugh dove under the table.

"And since there's a loophole," Elisabeta added, "I have a fic here of Charlie and Mr. Hugh."

The table started trembling. "Stop acting so childish," rebuked Janice as she poked her head under the table. A couple of seats away, Sister Germany knocked Assbitch unconscious for staring at her body for too long.

"Oh my god, what am I reading?" Alfred demanded suddenly. "What is this?"

"What?" Tony the alien had floated into the room. He hovered over Alfred's shoulder for a few minutes before turning a lovely shade of lime green and collapsing on his platform.

"Yeah, I feel like doing that too," Alfred sighed.

"Give us a summary," Ivan said from across the table. Alfred aimed a kick at him under the table, but the Russian remained unfazed.

"It's about this chick named Lucia having, and I quote, 'passionate sex like tigers', with Tony."

"Congratulations, Yank, I've lost my appetite," SatW England declared.

* * *

"Presents!" giggled Kriss, grabbing one of Alexander's parcels and ripping off the paper. The Briton had woken up, looking mildly surprised to see her in his bed. "Oh look, a model of a dragon! You like dragons?"

"Well enough," he replied. "There's a dragon on the Welsh flag."

"That dragon should've been on the Union Jack," declared Kriss as she unwrapped another present. "Ooh, what's this?"

"Pyjamas. Family tradition…" Alexander paused. "Who's it from?"

Kriss snickered. "Jennifer," she said, holding up the card.

"She didn't draw on it this time." Alexander sounded mildly disappointed. "She was better than me at drawing."

"Aw, bummer," Kriss said, grinning. "Nice pyjamas." They were black and gold-striped, and they were likely to make him look like a giant, rich bumblebee.

"You should try them on," Alexander teased, and Kriss stuck her tongue out at him.

"No, no. They're yours. You can wear them."

Over at the girls' dorm, Merka had started unwrapping her presents. Kriss's parcels lay unopened on her bed; the girl must have stayed the night elsewhere. Merka tried to banish the thought.

She grinned at the tin of Boston Harbour tea that Jennifer had gotten her; the packaging had the American and British flags criss-crossed together. Someone else had sent her the Grand Union flag – which was the King's Colours flag with the stripes of the thirteen colonies.

Lucia had awoken, watching her from her tub. "Where are my presents?" she asked. Merka shrugged.

"Dunno… back in your old room?"

"Maybe they're with Sabrina." Lucia frowned. "Since I'm supposed to room with her anyways… oh, well, I'll check in on her later." The mermaid raised herself out of the tub, watching her fins turn into legs. "So…"

"So… what?" Merka asked confusedly.

"Should we?" Lucia asked suggestively. "You know… again?"

"What?" Merka echoed obliviously.

"Come on, Merk, don't be shy…" cooed Lucia.

"What are you talking about?" Merka demanded, unwrapping a copy of _National Geographic_'s book on the British Isles. "And my head fucking hurts…"

"Here, have some water," Lucia said helpfully, handing the USUK fangirl a glass of water that had been sitting innocently at her bedside table. "Hangovers happen because you're dehydrated."

Merka drank the water, eyes squeezing shut. "Thank you," she mumbled as she set down the empty glass.

"Now, back to where we were…" Lucia smiled, but Merka continued to look confused.

Poor Lucia.

* * *

"You know we have to do something about the plothole," Mr. Hugh told Arthur after breakfast. They were sitting in Mr. Hugh's office, and the Course Coordinator had the article about crossover plotholes on his desk. "If we cannot seal the plothole, this place will be swamped. Already, I have heard reports of a little girl called Afuganisu-tan wandering in the Italian Corridor. Had it not been for Merika and Lamerique, she probably would have been mobbed by students."

"I said, I have no idea how to close the plothole," Arthur snapped irritably.

"Yes, you do. We all remember the night Bled was created. That plothole was created in conjunction; we have photographic proof."

Arthur's face flushed bright scarlet. "The frog could have doctored those photos, you know," he said defensively.

"Francis signed this contract," Mr. Hugh snapped, waving a piece of paper in Arthur's face, "that says that these are the bona fide pictures. What have you to say to that?"

"Perjury," Arthur grumbled, not meeting Mr. Hugh's eyes.

"Don't lie, Arthur," Mr. Hugh whispered.

"All I will say," Arthur replied, "is that if it takes unresolved sexual tension to create a crossover plothole, then it takes the resolving of said tension to make the plothole disappear."

"And what does that have to do with crossovers in the first place?" Mr. Hugh wondered.

"It's obvious, isn't it? Most crossover fics involve a romantic liaison between people from two different continua," Arthur said, blushing furiously. "The build-up of UST results in a plothole that enables these two to meet."

"And once they've resolved that tension, what happens?"

Arthur frowned. "Well… then the crossover plothole stops functioning, trapping the travelling character so that he or she can live happily ever after with his or her newfound love. Or at least, that's what my theory is."

"The plothole functions right until the tension is resolved?" Mr. Hugh echoed.

"Yes."

"With all of these characters being pulled here, how do you tell who the lovers are supposed to be?"

"How am I supposed to know? I know how to open it; I have a theory on how to close it. That plothole has simply lain dormant for months; _now_ it's spewing characters like a volcano! What do you expect me to do, run a survey through the new characters and select the ones who are single?"

Mr. Hugh snickered. "Actually, that sounds like a plan, Arthur."

Arthur groaned.


	32. More Crossover Mayhem

**Notes:** Yes, the mood whiplash was intentional last chapter. 'Twas part of the April Fools thing.

There's a new poll that will be a bit more relevant to the current situation. Take it.

**Additional Disclaimers:** I do not own Sebastian Michaelis and Grell Sutcliff, Afghanis-tan and Co., or Harry Potter and Co. They belong to Yana Toboso, Timaking, and J.K. Rowling, respectively. And I dragged Harry and his buddies in here for a reason; I'm too shy (and too lazy, but disregard that) to wander up to **Meir Brin **and ask her if I could schedule a crossover class between IAHF and HFA. (And you all should go read HFA if you like Harry Potter.)

* * *

**Part VII**

Monday morning found SatW England waking up to find Arthur Kirkland already up and about, singing Beatles songs loudly in the shower. Smiling and humming along, SatW England put on his clothes and got out of bed. He'd always brush his teeth before Arthur, because the other Englishman took far too much time in the shower.

But eventually both of them were presentably dressed for breakfast; they took their adjacent seats in the Staff dining room. Shortly, Alfred entered, followed by a stream of American personifications – Meriken, SatW America, Sister America, and Uncle Sam. The blonde, crown-wearing Britain from Afghanis-tan flounced in and took a seat next to Rose Kirkland and Sister England. John Bull was nowhere to be found.

"I forgot to mention this, but thank you for replacing my vase," Arthur called across the table at Alfred, who merely grunted. "Speak up, Alfred; stop sounding like a pig."

"You're welcome," Alfred growled.

"Ohmaigosh, Alfred, stop being such a stick in the mud to him!" chided Meriken. "That's not how a hero should behave!" All of the American personifications seemed to have a liking for superheroes (well, all except Uncle Sam, although SatW England was pretty sure he was in the closet about that).

Other Nations (and one extremely confused demonic butler, who had spent most of his time with the Cat Nations, anyways) soon filed into the room, obediently sticking with SatW Sweden's seating chart. It seemed that every day brought at least one new character from a different fandom into the academy. The travellers had gone from National personifications to demonic butlers, and now…

_CRASH!_

"What was that?" demanded SatW England, nearly dropping his teacup. By now, breakfast was in full swing, complete with Alfred and Ivan (and Uncle Sam and Mother Russia, SatW America and SatW Russia, and Meriken and that blonde in the mink coat) flinging pieces of Marmite-smeared toast across the table at each other.

"Russia Onii-sama," Uzbekis-tan said cheerfully from next to the blonde in the mink coat. "Do you need any help?"

"Like, don't help the Commie bitch!" Meriken whined. "You'll ruin my beautiful complexion!" She sent a withering glare at Terrorist Cat sitting innocently on Heracles' head.

_CRASH CRACK BANG STOMP CLANG!_

"Can someone tell the folks upstairs to _please_ stop teaching elephants how to tap-dance?" Arthur demanded. Several people sniggered, but Mr. Allen stood up, massaging his temples.

"I'm going to check on the noise. Who's coming with me?"

SatW England jumped up, "I'll go, sir," he said. Workbitch (_strange name for such a nice chap_, thought SatW England) offered to go as well. Together, the three of them left the room to investigate.

When they found the source of the noise, though, all three of them simultaneously groaned. _Not again! The school's getting near capacity with us dimension-hopping folks!_ SatW England thought exasperatedly.

"Welcome to the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. How may we assist you?" Mr. Allen snapped at one of the newcomers. He had messy dark hair, bright green eyes, glasses, and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

"Weaselhead was being an idiot," snapped another boy with a pale, pointed face and cruel grey eyes. "He said the wrong spell and somehow sent us here. I want to know how to get back."

"Shut up, Malfoy, it's not Ron's fault! He had the incantation correct; there was clearly some greater power at work!" a girl with bushy brown hair snapped.

"Stick up for your boyfriend, why don't you, Mudblood?"

"He's not my boyfriend, you inbred ferret!"

"Ooh, that stung _so _hard," deadpanned said 'inbred ferret'. "I'm going to cry for weeks now."

"Shut up, all of you," the bespectacled boy growled. He looked up at Mr. Allen, who was already on the verge of a personality switch. "Er, I'm Harry Potter. This is Ron Weasley." Here he pointed to a red-haired and gangly boy who was being restrained by the bushy-haired girl. "Hermione Granger is restraining him from punching Draco Malfoy. We go to Hogwarts, and we're lost."

"You and the rest of us," SatW England sighed. "Come along, then. Who caused all that ruckus?"

"Weaselhead," Draco sneered.

"Ferret-face," Ron retorted.

"Both of you, then." SatW England glared. "Shut up and follow us. Let's see if Sweden has a spot for you at the table."

* * *

News always spread through the student body like wildfire. News about Kitty and Anita's updates to their chart (which was always easily accessible; just drop by room 203 in the girls' dorm and ask for the Who's With Whom chart), news about Ludwig's upcoming seminar on winter survival skills, and news about the crossovers taking place in the Staff section were all over the school by noon. There were also news about how Matthew's team had scraped a narrow victory against Ivan's team to win the IAHF Hockey Championships, but those had been largely dismissed as inevitable. After all the revolutionary excitement of first semester, whacking at a puck seemed tame in comparison. Just don't tell Matthew.

Of course, all the exhausted members of the hockey teams were glad that the season was over.

Skiing, snowboarding, and figure skating were still taking place until the snow melted. The SatW Nordics fitted right in (well, except SatW Denmark, who apparently almost drowned in a snowflake once). SatW Iceland insisted on creating moguls and other sorts of tricky snow conditions, much to the students' chagrin. Most students were still falling halfway down the slope.

Today, Jennifer found herself lounging on the window seat, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. She watched Workbitch work at his desk, filing papers and creating lists. Somehow, he could make clerical duties look extremely attractive. Then again, he was Workbitch.

"So, who's crossed over so far?" Jennifer asked, causing him to look up from his work. "You should know, right?"

"So far… _Scandinavia and the World_, _Afghanis-tan_, Official National Personifications, _Kuroshitsuji_, and _Harry Potter_," Workbitch listed. He was wearing reading glasses and he looked ridiculously dorky in them.

"Oh, so the rumour that there are hobbits in the Staff Section is unfounded?" Jennifer asked.

"It could happen any time," Workbitch replied. He paused. "I heard that your peers have started a betting pool about us."

"I'm going to kill Kitty," Jennifer growled.

"Murder doesn't suit you," Workbitch snickered. "Do you think they know?"

"That…" Jennifer blushed. "Er, I don't think so…"

"Good." Workbitch smiled. "Keep it quiet as long as possible, all right? I don't like drawing unwanted attention."

"You're lucky I'm not a camerawhore," Jennifer replied, rolling her eyes.

Workbitch frowned. "Yes, I am truly fortunate for that," he deadpanned.

Jennifer looked outside the window as the snow continued to fall, smiling to herself. Once the week ended, the New Year would begin – and with it, the new semester. Winter break was quickly fading, but Jennifer didn't want to think about classes so soon.

"What are the classes next semester?" she asked Workbitch, who looked up again.

"Can't tell just yet," he replied. "But I think one of them might be temporarily dropped to accommodate a crossover class. Arthur's obviously read one too many crossovers involving him and Harry Potter."

"Really?" Jennifer asked, her heart still skipping a beat at the sound of her Lust Object's name. "He's doing fine, right?"

"More than fine, since he seems to be with SatW England," Workbitch remarked.

"That's cute," Jennifer giggled, her dirty, dirty mind already driving itself into the gutter with thoughts of crossover Englandcest. She had seen SatW England strolling around, and That Monocle was damned attractive.

Once an Anglophile, always an Anglophile. Just because she was on a diet didn't mean she couldn't look at the menu.

"You know," Workbitch said suddenly. "The other day, I came across several fanfics that you wrote."

Jennifer paled. "R-really, now?"

"Yes, your penname involves the name 'Lily', right?"

"Y-yeah. Fifth grade penname. It just… stuck."

"Have you always wanted to have desk sex with Arthur?" Workbitch asked, an actually amused lilt to his voice. Jennifer felt supremely confused. What did he think about that Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones fic? Looking back, she had a sudden urge to delete the story.

"Er…" Honestly, she had nothing else to say. She was too busy blushing.

His next suggestion sent pleasant shivers up and down her spine. "Want to try it with me?"

* * *

On New Year's Eve, the students and Staff all gathered at eleven P.M. for the countdown. In the middle of the room, a giant replica of the ball in Times Square slowly inched its way down. All around, screens displayed New Year's celebrations all around the world.

"That was an impressive display of balloons, Kiku," Heracles said, yawning. Terrorist Cat weaved through people's ankles and jumped up on his shoulders. The rest of the Cat Nations hissed at it at Heracles' ankles.

"Thank you," Kiku said impassively, as the screen started replaying the Sydney Harbour Bridge firework display. Australia high-fived his SatW counterpart. Sister Australia was grinning.

"Awesome, mate! What do you think, New Zealand?" SatW Australia asked, turning to a sheep with the New Zealand flag on its wool.

SatW New Zealand bleated, and Hetalia New Zealand patted her. Poor Hetalia New Zealand had a gender crisis, and sometimes woke up as the opposite gender of the day before.

"Look, fireworks from the London Eye!" SatW England called. "Why's my eye twitching?"

"Believe me, I'm feeling the same thing," Arthur replied. "It's just a side effect of being a National personification. You'll get used to it eventually."

"HEY YOU GUYS, THE COUNTDOWN IN TIMES SQUARE IS BEGINNING!" Alfred hollered, surrounded by the other American personifications. "LET'S GO! TEN, NINE, EIGHT!"

Everyone else picked up the chant. "SEVEN, SIX, FIVE!"

"FOUR!"yelled a certain flamboyant shinigami, waving his chainsaw about dangerously.

"THREE!" hollered Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.

"TWO!" Francis and SatW Denmark cheered.

"ONE!" everyone screamed. The ball dropped, glittering and sparkling, and little sparklers flew through the air. People were applauding and cheering, and several couples were kissing.

"Happy New Year," Kriss told Alexander, but she looked over his shoulder at Merka, who was sitting there with another glass of champagne.

"Happy New Year," Megan whispered in Andrew's ear as she hugged him, smiling at Karen Saghieh. Part of her felt guilty for dumping Lucia so gracelessly, and she made a mental note to set the record straight.

"Happy New Year, Merka." Lucia, on the other hand, had taken a seat next to Merka, her expression sombre. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like me that way."

"I'm glad you understand," Merka replied sadly.

"Do you think she loves him?" Lucia asked, gesturing to Kriss and Alexander. The Asakiku fangirl had her eyes closed and her head resting on Alexander's shoulder.

"Why not?" Merka wondered, rolling her eyes. "It's not my business. It hurts my heart, but I have no say in her affairs."

"Do you like him as well?" Lucia queried thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a finger.

"He's British. I'm an Anglophile."

"Well, that explains things." Lucia hummed to herself for a few minutes before asking, "Wanna get together for the heck of it?"

"What?" Merka asked, frowning.

"Look. It's simple, yeah? Meggie's a cheating bitch, but I'm still in love with her. You have a crush on Kriss and mild attraction to Alexander. If we get together, we can make them jealous."

"That sounds like a storyline right out of a soap opera," Merka remarked.

"But it works, sometimes," Lucia pointed out, grinning. "And if not, it at least tells you what the other person thinks about you. If he or she likes you, he or she _will _be jealous. If he or she doesn't, he or she won't give a damn."

"Okay, so we're only doing this for 'teh lulz', right?" Merka affirmed.

"And to troll on them, if you insist on using Internet lingo," Lucia agreed.

"As long as you're not serious, we have a deal."

* * *

The survey was finished and distributed out amongst the guests on Monday, when the classes began again.

"I hope you all answer this very seriously, unless you want to stay here forever," Arthur snapped as he handed out the surveys. "Deadline is this Friday. Deliver the completed surveys to my room."

"Wait, what if we don't know what our sexual orientation is?" Hermione Granger demanded.

"Go with what you judge your behaviour to be," Arthur replied. "These aren't anonymous surveys, but the only people who will be reading these are Kiku, me, and Mr. Allen."

"You'll keep it that way, right?" SatW Sweden threatened.

"H-hai," Kiku stammered. "Thank you for your time."

When Arthur left the room, SatW England followed him. "Arthur?" he called, catching up with the other Englishman in his – _their_ – room. "What is this about?"

Arthur looked at him, blushing, before hiding his face behind his lesson plans. "Please leave me alone," he said.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're asking me about my relationship preferences."

"SatW England, please. I'm busy. Go watch birds or something."

"Don't pull that on me, Arthur, I know you're up to something."

"I have a lesson to teach on Wednesday, SatW England. Please, stop – " he was quickly silenced by the other's kiss. When they broke apart, Arthur goggled at the dark-haired Englishman. "What…"

"Do they know we _haven't_ gone beyond this?" SatW England asked.

"They think we have, because of my… reputation," Arthur replied, blushing.

"And what would happen if we did?" SatW England queried.

"That's what I fear," Arthur sighed. "If I… if we… take that final step, then the crossover plothole could disappear and you'd never see your home again."

SatW England stared. "Then what's the survey for?"

"We have to figure out all the possible combinations of crossover pairings… and out of them, we have to find the one that will resolve all of this." Arthur's green eyes were stern. "I didn't want to tell you, because I had no idea how you would take it."

And how did he take it? SatW England was shocked, naturally, that they did have a plan for him to return. But there were possible sacrifices. He could probably never see Arthur again, and somehow that idea made him feel melancholy. Arthur _understood_ how it felt to personify a Nation. Arthur understood things about him that the others never grasped.

But home... home called to him. Home was normality. Home was a nice little cottage in the Dorset countryside, surrounded by songbirds. Home – granted, Arthur could have had the exact same cottage in the exact same place, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't have his memories, and SatW England wanted _his_ memories. _His_ home.

SatW England levelled Arthur a steely glare. "I would do anything, Arthur, _anything_, to get back to my home."

"Anything? Even… sleep with someone you might be attracted to, but will never see again?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps."

Arthur really didn't have anything to say to that.


	33. Congratulations, It's a Paradox!

**Notes:** Great, I'm a bit loopy from watching Inception (and those guys will probably end up in here, one way or another) and I think I really love Inception Arthur because he is fabulously badass and cute (and looks like Workbitch, damn IAHF Jennifer muse). If only he had a British accent /shot.

Also, I'm sorry, but I don't do crossovers on request. Half of the suggestions are from anime that I haven't watched, and I prefer to work with the stuff that I do know (Inception, Alice in Wonderland, Monty Python, Vocaloid, Battlestar Galactica 2003, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Moulin Rouge, Phantom of the Opera, Narnia, Titanic, and the list goes on for like everything _except_ anime), so that I don't mischaracterise anyone.

When you're requesting a cameo for your student, please put their name down as well. Keeping track of everyone is ridiculously hard, especially in conjunction with his or her likes and dislikes. I've almost memorised many first semester students, though, so it can be done. Just… please don't get offended when your character gets the Canada treatment from me.

**Additional Disclaimers:** The Balrog belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Barbie belongs to Mattel. William T. Spears belongs to Yana Toboso. Point Man Arthur belongs to Christopher Nolan.

* * *

**Part VIII**

"_Oh, Barbie darling! Come here, my plastic honey-bunny-nunny-wunny!_"

"_Yes, my sweet Maeluiwen, let me fall oh-so-dramatically into your arms!_"

Takara was watching No-Drool Video #460 with sick fascination; she wasn't even aware that one of her eyes was twitching.

Agent Eledhwen Elerossiel peeked into the room, got a glimpse of an ample bosom nearly overflowing from a chainmail bra, and pulled her head back out, shuddering. "The patient fares well, I hope?" she asked Suzine Sachs, the head nurse at the FicPsych department, Protectors of the Plot Continuum headquarters.

"Excellent. She's made some progress recovering from the initial filtering. She may have to have more dialysis treatments, to get rid of all of the Glitter. Then she may be fit to return to her OFU."

"Make sure she is absolutely free of all Glitter and lusting tendencies before you release her," Eledhwen warned.

"I know," Suzine replied calmly. "You know I keep track of everything."

Eledhwen cast an appraising look at the head nurse's spotless appearance. For the first time, the ataxophobic elleth had nothing to fix. "I can tell," she said after a moment. "Excuse me."

Suzine watched the elleth leave before looking in at Takara, who seemed to be shaking slightly as she continued to watch the horrific video.

"Takara?" she asked cautiously, tapping the girl on the shoulder. Takara nearly jumped a foot in the air and turned to see Nurse Suzine, blinking wildly.

"Wh-what…" she stammered, her mouth moving but making no noise. "W-what…"

"Shush. It's time for psychotherapy with Dr. Freedenberg. Off you go."

Takara took faltering steps down the corridor. Everything was grey, in a way that pressed at her and made her want to scream. Had she been in a better state of mind, she would have laughed at the irony.

But the detoxification process was taking its toll on her; the No-Drool videos were sapping away her mental capabilities. They said the videos were designed to prevent her from lusting after Mr. Hugh, but she couldn't help but think that it went beyond – that it had turned her brain to mush.

She certainly felt like her brain was little more than pudding, anyways.

Finally reaching the end of the eyesore hallway, Takara pushed open the door at the end and entered Dr. Freedenberg's office. Sure enough, the Alec Guinness-lookalike was sitting at his desk, smiling like a doting old grandfather – not that she ever had experience with grandparents, of course.

"Takara! It's nice to see you again! Shall we continue with our discussion about your past?" he asked cheerily, and Takara nodded, meekly closing the door behind her.

* * *

"The Thursday afternoon 'OC Workshop' classes, taught by China, are going to be replaced with the crossover class for the time being," Ryosuke Nakayama announced at breakfast on Tuesday, spreading out the Bled Chronicles on the Nerd Group table and pointing to the article. "It says here that the 'OC Workshop' curriculum was originally supposed to last two semesters, so they decided to cut down the length to one semester and fill the space with a crossover class. Wizard Arthur is expected to be teaching it, alongside the four _Harry Potter_ characters that showed up last week."

"Any new crossovers?" Alice Wang, the newest addition to the Nerd Group, asked.

"Er, there's a giant flame-and-shadow monster running around in one of the abysses," Franklin Livingston pointed out.

"A Balrog?" Loki Shadow Reave heard him on her way to the buffet line. "Oh, I'll have to go and find it…"

Tori Troutman rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm so tired," she yawned.

"And we still have Canon 101," complained Karin Guarez, massaging her temples. "At least it's just Feliciano and Kiku."

"What happened to Ludwig?" Anastasia Debby wondered.

"He's teaching the new students," Tori replied.

Over at the North America table, Jennifer sat quietly, trying to eat her Belgian waffles without drawing too much attention to herself.

"AHA! THERE YOU ARE, MRS. BARTHOLOMEW!" Kitty squealed, bouncing out of nowhere. "So, what happened?"

"What are you talking about?" Jennifer demanded.

"We saw you leave the Christmas party with Workbitch and we barely saw you afterwards! Spill the beans, child!"

"Nothing happened!" Jennifer whined. "Leave me alone!"

"D'aw, you sound like a five-year-old being poked with a stick!" Kitty snickered, poking her cheek.

"Well, stop poking me," Jennifer grumbled, yawning and faceplanting in her waffles. "G'way," she mumbled through a mouthful of syrup.

"Were you sleepless last night? I wonder why," trilled Kitty as a parting jibe. Jennifer groaned and wished that she could drown in the syrup already.

"You look like a happy, sane person," Megan remarked, taking a seat next to her. "I mean, having your face in a pile of waffles probably isn't a very healthy idea…"

"I don't hear Andrew," Jennifer mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"He's with his friends over in the penis-only section of the cafeteria or something," Megan said, shrugging. "Something about Charlie getting pictures of hot chicks from different fandoms."

"Thought Charlie was gay for Mr. Hugh."

"He is, but he also likes taking pictures of naked women."

"Charming." Jennifer meant that as sarcastically as possible. "Who did he take pictures of?"

"Sister Denmark, Sister Sweden, Sister Iceland, SatW France, Marianne, Meriken…" Megan tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think he tried to get a picture of Draco and Harry, but he got blobbed by Arther before he could."

"Draco and Harry?" Jennifer thought about removing her face from the waffles, but decided not to. Laziness tended to do that to people. "Sounds hot. What were they doing?"

"Arguing, according to Charlie. Apparently they share a room with Ron and SatW Iceland, too."

"Draco must be jealous of SatW Iceland," snickered Jennifer. She paused. "When are you going to apologise to Lucia? Thanks to you, we've fucked up the dorm assignment sheets." That was the sad truth – Lucia had moved in with Merka, Kriss had virtually moved into the boys' dorm, and Megan was never in her and Jennifer's room anymore. Jennifer had heard rumours from Anita that the alien had almost made it her goal to sleep with half of IAHF before the second semester was over. She wasn't sure when and where Megan had gotten_ that_ idea, but it worried her.

"I want to apologise and make it clear, but she's been avoiding me," Megan said in an unnaturally quiet voice.

"If you weren't being such a bitch, then maybe she wouldn't have any reason to avoid you," Jennifer pointed out, her voice still muffled by syrup.

"Oh come on, it's just a bit of fun!"

"Sure, because you're the one who's breaking hearts," Jennifer snapped. "You could have given her a reason."

"Yeah, that's great," sniffed Megan. "Says the girl who just walks up to her boyfriend, says 'we're breaking up', and walks away."

Jennifer finally raised her syrup-coated face from the waffles, glaring at Megan through syrup-coated glasses. "Shut up," she snapped, before leaving the cafeteria to wash her face.

"Someone's on their period," Megan remarked cattishly after her.

* * *

On Thursday, the new students filed into the Platonic Love class. Like their predecessors, they split up into USUKers versus non-USUKers.

Pirate Arthur and Aviator Alfred strode into the room, Pirate Arthur acting as if the room smelled bad. "Take a seat, ye nasty li'l landlubbers," he growled as he strode up to the desk and perched on it. "We be talkin' 'bout platonic love. Stodgy me an' dumbarse 'im 'ave gone on ter teach better subjects, leaving us ter inform ye of the diff'r'nces b'tween platonic love an' romantic love." Pause. "What a bunch o' lily-livered, sissy topics."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately these lads and lasses have trouble grasping the concept," Aviator Alfred remarked, nonchalantly lighting a cigar.

"Where'd ye get the cigar?" Pirate Arthur demanded.

"Cuba, 's why he hates me," Aviator Alfred replied, shrugging. "Right-o, first lesson of the semester. We'll be talking about friendship today. What's the importance of friendship?"

"Cor, what a sissy topic," groaned Pirate Arthur, slashing his sabre angrily. "If ye don't pass this class, I'll kill ye."

"Arthur, don't threaten the students." Aviator Alfred puffed away at his cigar, smoke rings floating out of his mouth and flying all over the room.

"Shut yer trap, Alfred."

On the other side of the school, the older students were listening to Shinbun-kun's lecture on mass media and its effects. Jennifer was sleeping, not noticing Shimbunkun blobbing onto her in her sleep. The Mochi version of the personification of mass media was somehow worse than its namesake, simply because it was even more sneaky. It was Shinbun-kun's partner in crime with beats and investigative journalism for a reason, after all.

"Mass media refers collectively to all mediums of mass communication – namely, the Internet, television, films, newspapers, and radio. Mass media has several purposes – advocacy, entertainment, and public service."

"Who knew he could be so boring when he's teaching?" Hotaru whispered to Celeste, who nodded and yawned. Several other students were in a stupor, others were drawing all over their notes in order to stay awake. Two seats away, Shannon Price was spinning a top, staring at it as if she wanted it to spin forever.

"There are two categories of mass media: electronic media and print media. Electronic media is anything that communicates electronically – that is to say, the Internet, television, films, radio, recordings, and video games. Print media is anything that is printed – namely, books, newspapers, and magazines."

"Kill me now," moaned Lucia from her seat in the back. "I'm dying of boredom, Merk, save me."

"Man, I don't know how to save you from that," Merka sighed. "Tickles?"

"Pffff." Lucia headdesked repeatedly. Shinbun-kun didn't even look up from his lecture notes.

"Mass media portrays a particular set of beliefs, values, and traditions. By doing so, they shape public perceptions on various issues. They distribute information and interpret the information – and not all interpretations are unbiased. By portraying one interpretation of reality, mass media shapes reality itself."

"So full of himself," Celeste sighed. "He's so_ very_ full of himself."

Shinbun-kun ended the lecture by assigning them the task of bringing in examples of how media shapes peoples' lives. The Nerd Group were plotting to ask Gestapo Ludwig for some propaganda posters as they left the classroom to go to lunch. Everyone else wondered what the heck was going on with their assignment – and with the stairwell leading from Shinbun-kun's classroom down to the main part of the school.

"Wait a second, what happened to the stairs?" Shelby screamed. "Sally, I could have sworn I walked past you twice already!"

"Who brought _Harry Potter_ staircases into this school?" Laurel Martin exclaimed as the staircase she was on broke away from the others and moved down. "I'm going to find the architect and kill him or her!"

"It's a paradox!" Hotaru screamed. "We're in a dream! Shinbun-kun dragged us into a dream with his boring lecture and now they're mindraping us!"

"Shut up!" Mike Hawk snapped.

Jennifer had finally woken up and was plucking bits of Shimbunkun from her hair. "Damned reporter mochis," she grumbled, not paying attention to the fucked-up stairwell. Bad idea. "Aieee!"

"_Wingardium leviosa_!" Laurel screamed, waving her chopstick. Jennifer crashed into her. "It was worth a shot, I guess," the wizard groaned.

"You know what?" Carolina Brown exclaimed from the stairwell above. All the other students were gathered there, peering down at Laurel and Jennifer. "I bet it's the crossover plothole. Too much information is being swapped between the continua, so parts of other continua are being sent here – not just people, but architecture and cultures."

"That's a great idea and everything, but it won't do anything for the rest of us who are fucking _hungry_," Kriss growled.

"We'll just have to find a new route to the dining room, then," Merka suggested.

* * *

By the time lunch was over, the effects of the crossover plothole on the school's layout were becoming painfully obvious. "Since when did the ceiling reflect the sky outside?" Jennifer wondered as she finished her lunch at the North American table.

"Dunno. Since when did fucked-up skyscrapers appear on the horizon?" Merka asked.

"Don't forget that ridiculously large mushroom," Lucia added.

"And the hobbit-holes."

"This place is fucked up."

"Tell us something we don't know." Jennifer sighed, and tried to find a way to the crossover classroom.

The strange layout of the school meant that there were doors pretending to be walls and walls pretending to be doors. Even the Rome-Wall had somehow been relocated, and he was hitting on Mitsuki Horenake as she went by. The staircases were twisted in ways that would have made M.C. Escher proud.

"Wow, this looks like the PPC headquarters," Carolina whispered to Dorothy as the sisters walked by. Jennifer frowned, wondering why that acronym sounded familiar.

"Maybe we should try not to think about where we're going," Dorothy replied wisely.

"But that's like trying not to think of elephants," Carolina whined.

"Just talk about something else," Dorothy whispered.

That seemed like a smart idea, but it still took Jennifer half an hour to find the classroom. Luckily, everyone else was late, too.

"Get into the classroom and take a seat; we're already half an hour behind schedule!" barked Hermione Granger as she strode past them into the room, a deep scowl etched all over her features.

"Geez, Hermione, take a Calming Draught," Ron Weasley called after her. "_Everyone_ got lost."

"But I have been going over the lesson plans with Arthur ever since they decided to have this class!" Hermione was either angrily frantic or frantically angry; it was hard to tell. "And you three will_ not_ mess this up for me, you hear that?"

"Wouldn't that be your worst nightmare, eh, Granger," Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Shut up, Mr. Malfoy," snapped Wizard Arthur as he strode into the classroom, black robes billowing impressively behind him, "before I call in the newcomers and make them invade your mind."

"You could just perform Legilimency, you know," Ron yawned.

"Newcomers, sir?" Shannon Price asked.

"Yes, newcomers. In case you haven't noticed, that crossover plothole has not been sealed off," Wizard Arthur replied. "Which, of course, brings us to the point of this class. Crossovers."

Harry Potter strode to the board and wrote 'CROSSOVERS' across the top.

"You have horrible handwriting, Potter," Draco sighed.

"Mr. Malfoy, if we need a peanut gallery we'll call you," Wizard Arthur growled. "Can anyone tell me what the main purpose of a crossover is?"

Emmanuella Escatara raised her hand. "To bring together characters from different fandoms," she replied.

"Precisely. A crossover is exactly what it says on the tin. In a traditional crossover, characters from one fandom 'cross over' into another fandom."

"But there have been other types," Hermione chipped in, waving a list. "There are crossovers where everyone is simply dropped into a room to see what happens, or where everyone is taken to the author's home and forced to entertain him or her. There are also more subtle crossovers that take the plot of one story and apply it to characters from another story, and ones where certain characters in different fandoms are 'revealed' to be the same person."

"Back to the original topic though," Wizard Arthur said, nodding at Hermione. "The traditional crossover has characters from one fandom relocating to another –"

"I hope you're taking notes," Ron snapped.

"You hypocrite," Harry joked, elbowing him good-naturedly. Ron turned a vivid shade of pink.

"Hey, I felt like I wasn't really getting my say in this," the redhead pointed out, his furious blush clashing with his hair.

"Ron, if you think that parroting _what I have been telling you for the past six years_ is going to make me impressed with you, then you're mistaken," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.

"Smooth," Harry snickered. "Real smooth, Ron."

"Can we get back on topic?" Draco demanded.

The trio looked at him, before Hermione nodded and muttered something about being short on time. She also seemed to be fluently cursing Draco and the school's odd layout under her breath – something very un-Hermione indeed.

"Back to the traditional crossover," sighed Wizard Arthur, waving his wand rather threateningly. "When fandoms collide in the traditional way, either supplantation or cohabitation occurs. Cohabitation crossovers happen when the characters from fandoms A and B have to coexist, whether that be living together, moving into the neighbourhood, or attending a school together. Supplantation crossovers happen when certain main characters from fandom A are suddenly rendered incapable of doing their jobs, allowing characters from fandom B to take over."

"This is clearly evidenced in many fics between our fandoms," added Hermione in a dramatic destruction of the fourth wall (or at least, it appeared that way for the students, since they thought that the guests had no idea why they were being mobbed by insane fangirls. At least Draco still seemed confused about the giant heaps of leather pants that had mysteriously appeared outside his room), "where Harry is entrusted to one of the Nations' care because the Dursleys didn't want him."

"Conveniently forgetting my mum's charm and Dumbledore's letter, yeah," Harry added, shrugging. "Strangely, most of the time _he_ has to take care of me." He pointed to Arthur.

"Don't you realise the inherent danger in such an upbringing?" Hermione demanded.

"Yeah, he might make poor Harry eat his cooking," Ron added, earning himself a glare from Wizard Arthur.

"Too late," Harry sighed, feigning death.

"Considering that annoying Yank's lack of taste in food," Draco added, "we'll have to fear for Potter's taste buds. He'll be eating hamburgers next."

"Too late," Harry repeated.

"Back on topic, all of you," snapped Hermione. "Arthur believes in magic. That would most likely make him, in our terms, a wizard, or at least a Squib. Anyone with a foot in the Wizarding World would know about Harry. That means that Arthur would have raised Harry very differently."

"And it's my upbringing with the Dursleys that gave me my humility," Harry added.

"Was that an ironic statement, Potter?" Draco jibed.

"How else could I have said it? I would have been a bigger prat than you if I had been raised knowing that I was famous."

"Shame you weren't."

"Belt up, the two of you," Wizard Arthur growled. "All right, who are other possible caretakers? I think Matthew was one…"

"Ivan," Anita reported, raising her hand. "I think I read one fic where Ivan raised Harry." A shudder ran through the students.

"Ivan, raising Harry Potter? That's the worst idea ever!" Alfred F. Jones had poked his head into the room. "Wait, your name_ isn't _Pothead, _right_?" Draco sniggered; Harry glared at him.

"Last time I checked, no," the Boy-Who-Lived replied sullenly.

"All right! Normal Artie was really mad at me for calling you that once, so I wanted to make sure. Anyways, yeah! Having that Commie bastard raise you is a horrible idea! Whoever thought that up should have Ivan as their caretaker. They'd be scarred for life!"

"Ivan's not always that bad!" Loki snapped defensively.

"Have you _seen_ a Russian orphanage? It's the stuff of horror movies," Kriss hollered from across the classroom.

"Thank you for your contribution, Alfred," Wizard Arthur snapped, closing the door with a flick of his star-topped wand. "Moving on. Let's talk about crossovers that involve the real world, or the place where you students hail from. Technically, any Original Character that goes to Hogwarts or meets a Nation would be instigating a Real World Crossover through Trans-Dimensional Hopping. It is only technically a crossover, and is therefore rarely treated like one. The reverse process, known as Trans-Dimensional Snatching, is almost impossible to recreate with these two fandoms simply because they are set in something like the Real World. There is no imaginary land or futuristic planet – just Earth."

"Draw a circle, there's the earth," sang Mitsuki Horenake.

"Er, yes. Recently, though, Trans-Dimensional Snatching has been caught in fanfics comparing the Nations to robotic units or pets, where an Original Character orders Nations from a catalogue of sorts… if I'm not mistaken?"

Megan looked ridiculously guilty and all but slid under her desk.

"That's an example of Trans-Dimensional Snatching. All right, moving on."

"Actor Crossovers," Ron said, squinting at Hermione's handwriting, "Merlin's beard, Hermione, write bigger."

"Maybe you need glasses, Ron," Harry joked, taking the notes from his friend. "Actor Crossovers involve two characters who are played by the same actor in the films –"

"One of those Muggle thingies where you go to a Theeter and take a seat and watch some moving pictures play out on a giant screen. It's like a huge and really long wizard photograph," Ron explained.

"I think they know what films are, Ron," Harry muttered. "Anyways, Actor Crossovers involve characters played by the same actor somehow meeting each other. Sometimes the actor himself or herself will get involved."

"There's usually a lot of jokes about how they all look and sound alike," added Hermione.

"Yeah, apparently some grim reaper called William T. Spears appeared last night and everyone said he sounded like me," Wizard Arthur remarked offhandedly.

"Don't forget that new Arthur who arrived this morning who looks like Mr. Allen's secretary," Hermione added, giggling. Ron coughed. "Hey, hey, I'm allowed to think that someone looks attractive!"

Ron muttered something about Viktor Krum, causing Hermione to groan and Draco to snigger.

"Jealous, Weaselhead?"

"We are never going to finish this class before dinner if we keep on getting off topic!" Hermione snapped suddenly. "Why don't we move on to Blender Crossovers?"

"Oh, those are delightful," deadpanned Harry. "Look, I am not Austria, Hermione is not Hungary, and Draco is not Prussia."

"And I don't even remember which Nation I was supposed to be, but I'm not him," Ron added.

"I'm not Hagrid, either," Arthur pointed out.

"Even if you cook like him and treat magical creatures like him," Harry noted.

"Was that a thinly-veiled insult to my cooking talents?"

Draco snickered. "Yeah, talent for creating dinners of mass destruction."

"You four are impossible co-workers. No wait, Hermione's lovely. The rest of you are _evil_," Wizard Arthur groaned.

* * *

In the end, they didn't get to cover Canon Crossovers, but no one really wanted to hear about those strange cartoons that combined Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, and (of all things) Scooby-Doo. They didn't even get to expound on Blender Crossovers, but no one really wanted to hear about the differences between Harry Potter and Austria.

Or the idea that Harry Potter couldn't personify London.

Or the idea that Harry Potter couldn't personify the earth itself.

Or the idea that the Wizarding community of Great Britain did not have a personification separate from Arthur.

"What's on the dinner menu?" Jennifer asked as they entered the cafeteria.

"Shepherd's pie," replied Andy. He was technically another Andrew, but everyone called him Andy. Anyone who called him Drew had the cigarette burns to prove their stupidity. "English food, you know. What's the food fight going to be?"

"What it always is every time English food is on the menu," Jennifer replied.

Naturally, FrUK and USUK fought that night.


	34. Complications, Complications Everywhere

**Additional Disclaimer: **Ariadne, Eames, and the PASIV device belong to Christopher Nolan. The lyrics to "Phantom of the Opera" belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

**Notes:** The first scene is from Point Man Arthur's POV, not England's POV. After this scene, he will be referred to as Point Man Arthur.

* * *

**Part IX**

Somewhere, the lines between dreams and reality had blurred. Arthur, the Point Man in Dom Cobb's Extraction team, hated it when he couldn't tell where the lines were. He had always been a stickler for propriety and specificity. He needed to know where the lines were, when they had been drawn, by whom, and why.

He had no idea now.

"I'm pretty sure I had dreamt of a hotel for the second level, not a school," he told Ariadne, who looked just as confused as he did.

"Wait a moment, where are the others?" the Architect demanded, looking around. This school seemed to be a maze all on its own.

"I don't know. The last thing I remember was being hooked up to the PASIV device in the van and falling asleep." Arthur took out his totem, a loaded red die, and tossed it. "Shit."

"Well, this must be bad," Ariadne remarked dryly as the Point Man picked up the die again.

"Yeah. This can't be my dream, though, even though my totem feels normal. Either we're awake, or there's something wrong with my dream. What about you?"

Ariadne hefted her bishop totem. "Mine feels normal, too, which makes us awake." She paused. "That doesn't make sense. Look at these stairs. That painting just moved. And outside? Skyscrapers and little hills and giant mushrooms and _who knows what_. What is this, some kind of sick joke?"

"It's a crossover plothole," someone said. Arthur immediately had his gun out, but he found himself pointing it at a tall man with blond hair, blue eyes, and thick eyebrows, who appeared unarmed and actually startled by his aggression. "Put down your weapon, please."

"Who are you?" Arthur demanded, eyes wary.

"Mr. Hugh, Course Coordinator at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. You have been pulled out of your world via crossover plothole. If you follow me, you will find that you are not alone in this situation." Mr. Hugh's voice was calming, but that only heightened Arthur's paranoia.

"Is this a dream?" Ariadne asked. "Are we in some sort of dream that imitates each person's reality to the point that their totems can't tell the difference anymore?"

"I assure you, you are one hundred percent awake," Mr. Hugh snapped. "It is still morning, though, so you might have to pardon the others."

That had been yesterday's scenario. Today, according to the calendar, was Friday and Arthur still had no idea how to escape. He was sitting in a common room set aside for the guests; there was a disproportionate amount of National personifications to humans for some reason. Ariadne still seemed convinced that she was dreaming; she was sitting next to him on the sofa, tipping her bishop repeatedly.

"Artie, darling! Thought I'd never see you again!" Arthur's head snapped up when he heard that voice, with that teasing English accent.

"Great, just when I thought I was free of you, Eames, you had to come here, too?"

A man with a dark comb-over and a sly smile extricated himself from some drunken Danish-looking fellow and walked over. "Missed me?" he asked.

"Not one iota," Arthur replied.

"D'aw. I'm going to cry all night because of that," Eames joked. Ariadne snickered.

"Arthur, apologise," the Architect said teasingly. Arthur crossed his arms. "Come on."

But Arthur was saved from capitulating to Ariadne and apologising to Eames, because the door to the common room had suddenly opened and a blond man with green eyes and thick eyebrows strode in with a stack of papers. "Do I have everyone's survey?" he demanded.

"What survey?" Arthur called. "Er, excuse me, sir…"

The blond man walked over. "Ah yes, you three. The newcomers. Please fill out these surveys and get them to me before tomorrow." He looked intently at Arthur, appraising his orderly appearance, it seemed. "I'm Arthur Kirkland," he added. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

When Arthur _Kirkland_ left, Eames sniggered and nudged Arthur suggestively, causing the Point Man to smack him.

* * *

"Welcome to 'What's in a Name' class," Mr. Allen said as he walked into the classroom, followed by Yao Wang. Jennifer could hear Grace cheering in the back. "Yes, calm down, Miss Liu. Today, we will begin with Yao and his lesson 'Get My Names Right or I'll Use Kung-fu on you'." He paused. "Yao, the podium's yours."

"Xie xie, Allen xian-shen," Yao said, stepping up to the podium. "Da jia hao. Wo jiao Wang Yao –"

"Er, Yao… qing nin jiang ying-wen, ke bu ke yi," Mr. Allen said in perfect Mandarin (several students fainted).

Yao blinked. "Right, right…" he nodded, smiling. "I forgot, aru."

"What did they say, anyways?" Jennifer whispered to Ema Skye. Even though her family was Chinese, she had largely forgotten the language.

"Yao said 'Thanks, Mr. Allen' and then 'Hello everyone, I'm Yao Wang'. Mr. Allen then said 'Please speak English'," Ema replied quickly.

"Okay," Jennifer said, nodding as Yao continued the lecture, thankfully in English.

"All right, so today we will be talking about my name, aru," Yao said as he took a marker and wrote his name in Chinese and then English on the whiteboard. "Can anyone tell me the difference, aru – other than the obvious language difference, aru?"

Anastasia Debby raised her hand. "The orders are switched."

"Yes, exactly. In English and most parts of the West, aru, the family name comes after the given name. In Chinese, Japanese, and many other Eastern cultures, aru, the family name comes before the given name, aru."

"So it's Honda Kiku in Japanese," Lucy Robinson-Honda stated.

"Yes, aru." Yao nodded. "One of the common mistakes I see with Westerners trying to grasp Eastern names is simply that – confusing the name order, aru." He paused. "It's not hard to spell my name, aru. But the order can be confusing for some. My given name is not Wang, aru. My given name is Yao, and my surname is Wang, aru."

"Just like how you don't call Kiku 'Honda' unless you're calling him by his last name, right?" Lucy asked.

"Exactly, aru."

"Hey, Mr. Wang," Roksana Abdullah asked suddenly. "If… let's say Arthur went to Japan. Would they call him Kirkland Arthur there?"

"Aha," Yao smirked. "That's a good question, aru. There's a special punctuation mark in Eastern languages that makes readers aware that they're dealing with a Western name." He wrote Arthur's name in Chinese, placing a dot between the first and last names. "A-te, dot, ka-ke-lan. That dot moves the surname to behind the given name, like with Western names."

A chorus of 'ohhhh's ran through the room.

"So, what did we learn so far, aru?" Yao asked.

"Er, that your first name isn't Wang," Eva Danielson said.

"Yes, aru, what else?"

Grace raised her hand. "Wo xi huan ni de xiong mao, Wang xian-shen," she said to general confusion.

"Er... xie xie," Yao replied with shifty eyes.

"What was that?" Jennifer asked Ema.

"She said she liked his panda," Ema whispered back.

"Anyone else, aru?"

_Eastern names go last name first_, Luna answered. _And there's a dot in between the first and last names for Western names when they're being presented in Eastern languages._

"Very good, Luna," Yao replied. "That seems to be about it, aru. What's my first name, aru?"

"Yao," the class chorused.

"And if you think my first name is Wang, aru, what will I do?"

"Use kung-fu on us," the class chorused. Grace looked about ready to test that theory.

"Very good, aru. Class dismissed –"

"Eh, eh, don't leave so fast," Mr. Allen interrupted. "There's homework for this class, too. Write me an essay on the importance of name order in Eastern and Western cultures. There's a reason why the family name goes first in China, Japan, and several other Asian countries. The minimum is two pages. If you write big, the minimum is three. Now you may leave."

As the students left the classroom, Chibi Francis ran into the room with a letter; Chibi Arthur was following closely behind, looking put off.

"I was going to give that letter, you meanie!" the little Briton snapped, pouting like an ice-cream deprived toddler. "It was my letter! Mr. Workbitch gave it to me to deliver it to you!"

"Francis, give Arthur the letter and let him give it to me," Mr. Allen said firmly. Chibi Francis grumbled, but handed Chibi Arthur the letter. Beaming, Chibi Arthur ran up to Mr. Allen and tried to give him the letter – but he was roughly the size of a young hobbit, so he had to bounce.

"See, Arthur? I said you were too short," Chibi Francis groaned.

"Shut up, frog! It's my letter!" Chibi Arthur replied waspishly. Mr. Allen chuckled and bent down, taking the letter and patting Chibi Arthur on the head.

"Run along. Back to the nursery you go," he said kindly. "Francis, make sure he doesn't fall down any abysses on the way back. If he does, I'll make you walk Honk Kong."

That seemed to be threatening enough for the little French boy, because he took Chibi Arthur by the hand and raced out of the room. The little Briton's taunts about Chibi Francis being scared of Honk Kong drifted in even from three corridors away. Grinning, Mr. Allen took a seat at a desk and began to read the letter.

His face paled.

* * *

"Wait, wait, what?" Nurse Florance Nightingail looked torn between shock and horror. "It's been a little more than a month since the last time you two slept together. How did they _just_ find out?"

"I don't know," Mr. Allen sighed, taking a seat on a vacant hospital bed. Across from them, Dr. Froyd was talking to a girl with dark hair, glasses, and a reasonably pretty face. Her wrists were heavily bandaged. "Who's that?"

"Emma Markowska," Florance replied. "She's been cutting herself."

Mr. Allen blinked. "One of those teenage wangst-filled fic writers?" he asked.

"Somewhere along those lines," Florance sighed. "Poor kid. Dr. Froyd's been trying to convince her that she's overreacting to everything bad in her life – people her age should not be getting this depressed over life. Save it for the mid-life crisis, you know?"

Mr. Allen chuckled. "She doesn't believe him, does she?"

"Not one bit, I'm afraid." Florance turned back to the letter. "However, _you_ have every reason to be worried and mildly depressed, old friend." She snickered. "You're going to be a father!"

"What?" several nurses exclaimed, rushing up the aisle at the sound of that. Even Dr. Froyd had paused in his counselling to listen in. "Who got pregnant?"

"Apparently Takara did," Florance said, tapping the letter. "The Medical staff at HQ was doing the routine blood test and discovered that she had acquired significant levels of human chorionic gonadotrophin."

"Those are the hormones that the placenta produces once the embryo is implanted," breathed Clara Bartan.

"Gee, I wonder who the baby daddy is," teased Mary Seacull, grinning roguishly at Mr. Allen.

"Could it have been the last effect of the Aura of Smooth?" Florance wondered, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You know Mary Sues are unnaturally fertile."

"There's another problem," Hélène Fairchild pointed out. "The mother passes nutrients to the baby through the placenta, which means through the bloodstream. Not all of the Glitter is gone from Takara's bloodstream."

Florance paled. "The child will be born a Mary Sue," she whispered.

"How can you be sure?" Mr. Allen choked out; the letter crumpled in his hand.

"Every character is created with a certain level of Glitter in the bloodstream. It must be below 100, or else the character is a Mary Sue. Glitter Levels indicate the character's special traits and importance to the plot."

"Takara herself had a Glitter Level of 69," Clara added thoughtfully.

"But around the time of the child's conception, her levels were somewhere between that and 371," Florance pointed out. "The embryo was therefore conceived in a Glitter-rich environment and immediately started absorbing nutrients and Glitter from its mother. It's like smoking and drinking during pregnancy – too much Glitter during the early stages of pregnancy raise the child's risk of being born a Mary Sue."

"It also explains how two perfectly well-developed characters can have an annoying little Mary Sue for a kid," added Mary, smirking.

"Also explains why most 'lovechild' Original Characters are Mary Sues," Mr. Allen added, his expression unreadable.

* * *

"Can I pet kobe?" Meghan August was asking Gregory Bob Walton at lunch as Jennifer walked by to get more tempura. "A black Labrador, right? He's adorable."

"Well, for a couple of days he was a Bled Labrador," Gregory said, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets. "Bled Pinjas got to him."

"That sounds painful," Meghan sighed.

A few tables away, Rinaldia Aria Winston Rivera and Midori Harrison were having yet another competition to see who could sing better. Rinaldia was certainly good at breaking glass.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came," warbled the Vocaloid, as several peoples' glasses broke.

"I don't think Phantom of the Opera was designed for Vocaloid software," Gabriella Renaldo Taveres pointed out.

"Oh, hush. You're just jealous." Pause. "And you like FrUK. Ew."

"What's wrong with that?" Gabriella sniffed.

"It's gross! They hate each other! Ew, ew, ew!" squealed the Vocaloid, causing more glasses to break.

"One of these days you're going to take out someone's eyes with that voice," Natashia Fernandez sighed.

"WHY AM I SURROUNDED BY FrUKERS?"

And at yet another table, Kazuma Miyafuji was getting an overenthusiastic greeting.

"Geroff, Yuki," he groaned as Yuki-rin Øxenstierna glomped him. "Need... air..."

"I missed you, I missed you! Yes I did, I missed you so much! How did you get here? No, seriously! I thought you watched Sengoku Basara more than Hetalia!"

"Eh, I wrote Prussiacest," the boy replied, shaking his blond dreadlocks.

"Wow, that's awesome! So, so, are you going to sit with me?"

"Er..." Kazuma trailed off, shooting a helpless look at the other guys at their table. Charlie Tenterden flashed him a wink. Apparently, the Mr. Hugh fanboy had been taking more pictures – Kazuma seriously wanted to see, but Yuki-rin was already dragging him over to the Europe table (she was sitting in 'Scandinavia' next to the Iceland fangirls). "Fine."

"Yaaaay! You're the best!" Yuki-rin forced him to sit down. "Now, let's play catch-up!"

* * *

"We need to get all of the possible crossover pairings listed as soon as possible," Arthur Kirkland said to Kiku as they sat across from each other, heads bent over the stacks of surveys.

"Yes, I know," Kiku repeated.

The door to their room banged open and SatW England came rushing in, face pale.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, leaping to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"You two need to follow me," SatW England said urgently, his monocle on the verge of falling off. Arthur adjusted it, and off they ran.

There was a huge crowd gathered outside in the snow, around a giant (but not life-size) replica of the Eiffel tower. "This is the Effie tower," Francis was explaining as they arrived on the scene and squeezed through the crowd. "Spawned at precisely 10:28 this morning at the back of the Staff Section. This is a routine occurrence."

"What's the not-routine occurrence, then?" Point Man Arthur demanded loudly from somewhere in the crowd. Moments later, the dark-haired man had pushed his way through the crowd, only to stop and stare at the bloodstains on the ground. "Murder?"

"Not quite murder," Sebastian Michaelis said, dropping down from somewhere on the Effie tower. The demon brushed off his hands. "A disappearance."

Arthur frowned. "Wait a moment, Mr. Michaelis. What are we talking about? A murder, or a disappearance?"

"It's a little bit of both," the demonic butler replied, smirking. "Feliciano Vargas was standing here, at 12:47, admiring the Effie tower. Minutes later, a blur collides with him, causing him to fall into this position. He then disappears."

"The crossover plothole?" Arthur asked.

"Perhaps." Sebastian's enigmatic countenance didn't bode well, though.

"Fabulous. One more thing to add to the laundry list," Arthur growled. "Figure out Feliciano's disappearance, figure out how to get you crossover folk back home – "

"Figure out a cure for your cooking, figure out your feelings for other people," Alfred mocked from across the crowd.

"Shut up, you ruddy Yank," Arthur snapped. "This is serious."

"I don't see what my godfather has to do with this," Harry joked; Hermione groaned.

"Enough with the puns already!"


	35. Tea For Three

**Notes:** Meh, not a lot of students appear here. The crossover characters really don't venture beyond the Staff Section (considering the dangers out there in the form of fangirls, who can blame them?), so in order to establish any sort of follow-up to the disappearances... yeah, students kinda have to take the back seat for a moment.

* * *

**Part X**

Mr. Hugh was almost certain that Eledhwen had taken pointers from Gandalf in the art of 'making people hate you by bringing bad news'. Nothing killed a weekend better than being declared a baby daddy and then discovering a disappearance – and Eledhwen only contributed to the trouble by bringing in distressing updates on the Mary Sue Factories situation and obsessively rearranging his room.

"The Disentanglers are having a field day already, so they can't send anyone over to help locate Feliciano," Eledhwen reported as she filed Mr. Hugh's cabinets and sharpened his pencils, her right eye twitching slightly. "However, we can spare you a Remote Activator, if you ever figure out which continuum he's in and you don't want to take your chances with the plothole." She threw the Remote Activator at his head; Mr. Hugh ducked and let it bounce off another file cabinet before he caught it, grimacing.

"How are you coping with our new layout?" the Course Coordinator asked. "I thought we needed remodelling."

"I hope you jest," Eledhwen replied.

"Of course I jest. The crossover plothole caused all of the strange architecture floating around."

"Have you gotten around to sealing it?"

"Arthur's working on that."

Eledhwen stared. "Look, I know you trust Arthur, but… isn't that a bit dangerous? He doesn't know about these sorts of plotholes as well as the experts back at HQ do. Whatever Arthur can do will probably only contain the plothole for the time being."

"He's our best hope, and you lot are always busy," Mr. Hugh replied.

Eledhwen blinked. "Yes, that's right, a mission. I have a mission. I will see you later, then." She summoned a portal with her own Remote Activator. "And congratulations on becoming a father."

Mr. Hugh hid his face behind his documents.

When Eledhwen left, Pirate Arthur peeked into the room with his own set of documents. Mr. Hugh was seriously considering going on vacation just to escape all the papers. "What is it?" he groaned, massaging his temples and glaring at the pirate.

"Investigatin' the disappearance o' Feliciano," reported the pirate, "Sebastian's narrow'd them possible targets down."

"To how many?" Mr. Hugh asked, taking the document and skimming it.

"T' the fandoms wi' guests at this school," Pirate Arthur replied. "S 'bout six or seven."

"All right, can you pinpoint the fandom?"

"Dunno righ' now, sir," Pirate Arthur grumbled. He paused for a few moments. "Oi, I be wonderin' if ye can replace me for th' Platonic Love class. Workin' with that Yank makes me want t'strangle 'im."

"What's wrong with Aviator Alfred?" Mr. Hugh wondered.

"E's a big prat, 's what 'e is."

"Deal with it, Pirate Arthur. I might be able to get your police counterpart to replace you, but you have to take responsibility for your own social problems."

"I 'ave no social problems!" complained Pirate Arthur. "Tha' 'otshot pilot's bin th' problem! Can't teach worth a damn, an' th' topic's ridiculous!"

"It's a concept that the students struggle with often," Mr. Hugh pointed out. "Just teach a few more classes and I'll see if I can find a replacement."

"Aye, aye Capt'n," Pirate Arthur replied, mockingly saluting Mr. Hugh as he left the room.

* * *

Point Man Arthur returned from breakfast on Monday morning to see his entire room painted Bled.

"Artie, darling, stop screaming," Eames snapped as he entered the room and dragged Point Man Arthur back out. Ariadne was in the hall, sniggering. "You should see the look on your face."

"Who decided that you and I were to share a room, anyways?" Point Man Arthur demanded, trying to salvage what was left of his reputation. "And _who_ decided to paint the room that colour?"

"It's called Bled, and the only thing that gets rid of it is mashed turnip," Ariadne replied. "I believe the Bled Pinjas are responsible for your… new walls."

"Can I borrow your gun?" Point Man Arthur asked Eames. "I'd like to give them a piece of my mind –"

"Oh, is this Mr. Unruffled getting ruffled?" Eames teased. "Calm down and go find some turnips."

"You two are helping me," Point Man Arthur snapped.

The three of them set off in search of the Staff Kitchens. All around, they heard sounds of confusion and anger as other guests discovered their new room colours as they returned from breakfast. Point Man Arthur could have sworn he heard SatW America crying about needing a new change of pants to SatW Canada.

"They painted all of the guest rooms?" Ariadne asked, whistling. "That's impressive, given that they did it while we were at breakfast." She gestured to the entire hall of guest rooms – all of them had been filled.

"Speedy pinjas," agreed Eames. "Let's hope no more crazy shit comes up when we try to find the kitchen, yeah?" The three of them paused, remembering Eames's impromptu midnight toilet break that ended up with him walking about in circles (thanks to a set of persistent endless staircases) and then mistaking the sauna for the toilets. None of the Nordics had forgiven him yet.

"Good point," Point Man Arthur sighed.

In the kitchen, they found Arthur Kirkland sitting at a kitchen table, scrawling at a list as SatW England chattered about birds. "So you know about the rarity of the yellow-bellied sapsucker, Arthur? I had the fortune to see one this morning just outside your window. He was a delightful little blighter with his red forehead and crown."

"I'm sure he was lovely to see, pecking away at my Frasier fir," Arthur replied without even looking up from his list. "You've ever seen a blue tit? They sing quite wonderfully. They'll be singing next month, though – I've seen some of them around here."

"Er, excuse me?" Point Man Arthur asked, coughing lightly. "I was wondering where the turnips are."

"Ludwig hid them," Arthur replied, getting up and walking into the pantry. "After one too many reminders of his 'Turnip Winter' during World War One, he decided to hide the turnips in the former wine cellar… here we go." He pulled up a loose block in the back corner of the pantry, revealing some steps leading into the darkness. "You don't mind going down there, right? We've a torch in here somewhere…"

"Here you go," Eames piped up, handing Point Man Arthur the torch. He turned it on and descended the steps.

"How many turnips do we take?"

"Usually one per person; there's enough to go around," Arthur hollered. Moments later, Point Man Arthur re-emerged with three turnips. "That's a good lad. Now, you'll want to mash the turnips properly before you use it, got that?"

"Yes, we understand," Ariadne said, smiling.

"Good, good. Now, SatW England was hoping that you, Arthur, might join us for a spot of tea this afternoon."

"Certainly can't turn down an invitation, sir," Point Man Arthur replied, putting away the torch.

"Splendid. Three o'clock, then. My room."

"You sure he asked you to a tea party?" Eames demanded as they left the kitchen.

* * *

Jennifer liked art. It had been a while since she seriously sat down and painted something. Now she was in front of an easel (one of the perks of being early to Art class, since people who came late had to sit on the drawing horses, and those were absolute torture), painting a rabbit.

And the watercolours were good ones, too, not like the cheap shit that she usually got because she didn't have that much pocket money. Jennifer was in artists' heaven, absentmindedly watching her brush dance across the paper. There was probably a rabbit somewhere on the paper – there had been, at some point. She wasn't quite sure where it was now.

"You like abstract, ve?" Chibitalia, the art teacher, asked. Jennifer looked down, slightly startled.

"Oh, I was just doodling," she said hastily, blushing.

"That rabbit looks nice, even if it's abstract," Chibitalia said bashfully before walking over to ask why Megan was drawing bunnies going at it like… bunnies.

"Do you draw?" Merka asked from the seat next to her. "I mean… yours is better than mine."

"As if," Jennifer sniffed, looking over at Merka's picture. "Yours is cute." She smiled, and then noticed Tori's picture from across the room. The girl had drawn a tribute to the Fluffy Mint Bunny. Jennifer shuddered; she had gotten on the bad side of one of the Fluffy Mint Bunnies again. Her left knee would probably never be the same.

"Art," instructed Chibitalia as he walked up to his desk and hopped onto a crate that was sitting on the desk, "is just as important to this fandom as writing. Art goes from stick figures to masterpieces. But like in other places, here there are artists who post things that shouldn't be posted, or bad pictures that they then defend."

"But what if they don't know it's bad?" Mitsuki Horenake asked tentatively.

Chibitalia pursed his lips. "I'm talking about those people who draw badly and don't want to become better because they think their work is already perfect," he said. "Grandpa Rome used to tell me what was wrong with my pictures, and I always fixed my mistakes."

"Oh." Mitsuki shrugged.

"Okay, now that I taught you how to draw a plain rabbit, let's draw bouncing rabbits, okay? And then I'll go and help people who need help." The little Italian boy beamed, picking up his brush and turning to his easel.

* * *

"Another disappearance has occurred this afternoon!" Shinbun-kun exclaimed. "Peter Kirkland, also known as Sealand, disappeared right at his desk in the Customs office!"

"He's lucky that registration's closed," Mr. Hugh remarked wryly, petting Arther. "How is Chibitalia handling the art class so far? It's his second class."

"It could be worse," Holy Roman Empire pointed out, blushing. "He seems to be doing well."

The three of them (plus a Mochi) paused before the art class and peered inside. Chibitalia was standing on a box on the desk to reach the easel and to make himself visible. "Ve, ve, now we draw the ears… like that, yes! Your rabbit looks very cute, Miss Horenake!"

Mitsuki fainted; Hotaru snickered.

"Does mine look good, Chibitalia?" Sabrina demanded, holding up her drawing.

"You could fix the nose a little… it's kinda crooked," Chibitalia replied, squinting slightly (a remarkable feat, since his eyes appeared closed already). He hopped down from his box and then the desk, running amongst the students and offering tips.

"Yes, he's handling everything very well," agreed Mr. Hugh, and they continued down the corridor, taking a flight of stairs up to the level where the new students were having language lessons.

* * *

"The letters of the French alphabet are as follows – répétez, s'il vous plaît. Ah, bay, say, day, euh, eff, jay."

"But that's G," complained Dana.

"It's pronounced like your letter J," replied Francis, sitting cross-legged on his desk and looking as if he wanted someone to shoot him in the head. "Moving on. Osh, ee, gee, ka, elle, em, en, oh, pay. Coo, air, ess, tay, oo, vay. Dooubluh-vay, eeks, ee-grec, zede."

The class repeated after him, slipping on R and W. It was torture for Francis, hearing his poor alphabet being mangled.

"Er… pas mal." Francis shuddered, taking a couple of deep breaths. "Let's go through it again. R is pronounced very differently in French than in English – it sounds like a mush between 'eh' and the English R. You have to make sure your tongue isn't moving – see, when you say the English R, you kinda push down on the bottom of your mouth with your tongue, non?"

Some of the students seemed to be trying it out with their eyebrows raised. Francis moved on.

"Well, when you say the French R, you leave your tongue in its natural position as you say the letter. The tongue doesn't move."

"He makes it sound so dirty," Crystal Xu groaned.

"He's Francis," retorted Andy.

The class repeated the alphabet, was quizzed on greetings and farewells ("Bonjour! Au revoir! A bientôt!"), and wrote a quick dialogue based on the scanty phrases that they already had.

Alexander was in French class, even though he had said that he wanted to learn more Spanish. The Briton grimaced at the dialogue that he had to write with Rain Kayheart (yet another person who had to fight Karen DuLay for Ludwig's attention, but that was besides the point).

"All right, Monsieur Morris and Mademoiselle Kayheart," Francis said drily as Crystal and Andy returned to their seats. "Let's hear this."

Alexander faced Rain. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," he said.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Je m'appelle Rain Kayheart."

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle Kayheart. Je m'appelle Alexander Morris."

"Enchantée. Au revoir."

"A bientôt."

"Eh, pas mal," Francis said after they finished. "Asseyez-vous. Nous allons revisiter les phrases." He got off his desk, walked over to the whiteboard, and wrote out their conversation. "The phrase 'bonjour', literally 'good day', is pronounced 'bone-joor', but with more pucker to the lips. When you get used to saying it, you won't have to exaggerate the puckering as much. But since you're still learning, I want to see puckered lips. Look like you're about to give big brother Francis a kiss."

"Ew," several students whined.

"Pooh-pooh. It's for your own good, you know," sniffed Francis.

They spent the rest of the class relearning basic phrases.

* * *

"Another disappearance?" Arthur asked, taking the note from Mr. Hugh. "I see. Right, we'll put that on the list of the missing…"

"Do you have any idea where they could be?" Point Man Arthur asked, setting down his teacup. It was three o'clock, and he was closeted away with the other Arthur and SatW England, sipping tea. He was the only American in their trio, too. In fact, the other two had seemed surprised that he wasn't English; they both seemed to believe that Point Man Arthur and Eames had been switched at birth or something.

"It can't be right. Eames gives off more American vibes than you," SatW England remarked, disregarding the Point Man's question. "Granted, we live in a world of stereotypes…"

"But the American personifications act like Eames," Arthur agreed, smirking. "Your America and his sister, Alfred and his genderbent counterpart… even Meriken. They're all outgoing, devil-may-care sorts of people who sometimes have no sense of personal space."

"Uncle Sam and Meriken don't really act like that," Point Man Arthur added.

"Meriken's a bit more like… one of those popular rich girls at any given school. Bit of a cow," SatW England remarked. "Uncle Sam's old. I'm sure that a couple of centuries ago he was like your Alfred, Arthur."

"He's not _my_ Alfred," Arthur retorted. SatW England grinned cheekily.

"That's what I tell myself all the time every time America screws something up," the dark-haired Englishman said, turning back to Point Man Arthur. "So… what do you do for a living, other than being a very unnatural American?"

"Like I said, not all Americans are loud, bumbling fools," Point Man Arthur replied.

"Stereotypes are self-fulfilling prophecies," Arthur replied sagely. "Let's move past that."

Point Man Arthur shrugged. "If you say so." He smiled and took a sip of tea. "I act as the Point Man in an Extraction team."

Blank stares. "Point Man?" SatW England repeated.

"Yes. My job is to get the details and the research for the other jobs in the Team. I make sure that the sedatives are working, that everyone knows what they have to do, that each level of the dream –"

"Dreams?" Arthur asked. "What do you do in dreams?"

"Er…" Point Man Arthur looked around. "This isn't going to end up on any government records back home, right? I'm a bit of a wanted man."

"We figured as much, since Mr. Hugh was talking about your obvious distrust of this place on Saturday," Arthur replied. "Think you're still in a dream?"

"I don't know. It's hard to believe," Point Man Arthur replied. "My totem says it's my reality. If this was my dream reality, then Ari and Eames's totems wouldn't work. But theirs both work, so we must be awake. Yet this place is too surreal for an awake reality."

"Welcome to our world," Arthur said sardonically. "Back to your job. What do you do in dreams?" Pause. "We won't tell our governments."

"The entire team is dedicated to do one of two things in a dream – Extraction, or Inception. We primarily do Extraction."

"Is that what I think it is?" SatW England asked. "You steal peoples' trains of thought?"

"That's putting it broadly," Point Man Arthur replied. "We share a dream with our target. In that dream, the target usually has something hidden away that he or she doesn't want us to find – a secret, an idea, something – but it's our job to steal it."

"Breaking into peoples' dreams and stealing their ideas," Arthur remarked, "sounds exhilarating. So, if you broke into a student's mind, you would probably end up stealing their plotbunnies, right? Or one of their muses. Some of them claim to have them."

"I suppose, but no one wants to invade a student's mind, I'm sure. We do Extraction for business leaders looking to sabotage their competitors," Point Man Arthur pointed out. Having nearly been mobbed by several fangirls on Sunday ("It's Arthur!" "But he's not blond!" "It's Inception Arthur! Arty-warty, we love you!"), he was pretty sure that if he entered a dream with them, the projections would all be extremely attractive men who would hit on him instead of hitting him. And wheedling information out of fangirls didn't necessarily require dream invasion – Point Man Arthur was sure that if he just did a striptease they would give him anything he wanted. Not that he would ever do_ that_, of course.

"Wizard me seems to already know what you do," Arthur added innocently. "I think he poked about in your mind with some tricks he picked up from the new wizards. Legilimency – it's like a less interactive form of your Extraction, I guess." Point Man Arthur made a mental note to tighten security in his own mind, but he checked himself, wondering if Wizard Arthur was reading his mind at that moment.

(He wasn't. Wizard Arthur wasn't even thinking about Legilimency, since he and Hermione were busy brewing Veritaserum.)

SatW England offered him a biscuit before turning his attention back to Arthur. "So… your Sealand disappeared?" he asked, trying to divert the conversation away from dreams.

"Yes, he did. The theory is that he and Feliciano are replacing the characters that have been taken here – we just don't know which continuum." Arthur took a sip of tea. "It's just an idea, but I think that the plothole is trying to attain equilibrium – the same number of characters and pieces of architecture on each side of the plothole. That means our Staff members will be scattered across the fandoms that our guests hail from."

"And parts of your school will crop up in other places," Point Man Arthur added, wondering how the others were doing without him acting as the Dreamer for the second level.

"This is why we need to figure out a way to seal off the plothole," Arthur agreed, tapping the giant stack of surveys.

"We'll help," offered SatW England, but Arthur shook his head.

"No, no. Kiku and I were partly responsible for this mess. It's our job to fix it."


	36. The Battle of Trafalgar

**Notes:** I apologise for this being so damned late. Stuff came up IRL and on FB, FFN derped, and then my computer broke. All through that my muses were in a slump, so... hopefully I can get stuff done now that everything's settled down a bit. I apologise in advance for the shitty quality of this chapter; I started it before everything went to hell.

But that being said – anyone who sent their registration form to me via Facebook will have to resend it, because I lost one of the files with all of the second semester registration forms. Merka, Megan, and Sara, I still have your forms. Alfred 'Cunning' Jones and Mariam, please send me your forms again.

**Major Epic Disclaimer: **A great section of text from the first scene comes from _To Rule the Waves: How the British Navy Shaped the Modern World _by Arthur Herman. I would like to acknowledge and thank him for giving me such detailed reading material. This book is an exhilarating read for any British history geek; go buy it.

* * *

**Part XI**

"On September 28, 1805, the British fleet off Cádiz caught their first sight of the _Victory_ as she approached from the west, flying Admiral Nelson's flag from her foremast," read Arthur Kirkland from a book titled _To Rule the Waves: How the British Navy Shaped the Modern World_. His class sat before him, so quiet that some people had nearly stopped breathing for fear of making noise. "Of twenty-seven battleships and four frigates, only eight captains had ever been under Nelson's command. Only five officers had ever commanded a ship of the line in battle. Yet all of them, band of brothers or not, had total confidence in him."

He looked up. "Thus begins the Battle of Trafalgar," he said, drawing up a map on the whiteboard. "Here, the green ships represent the British navy. There, in blue and red, are France and Spain. Admiral Nelson planned the British manoeuvre as such: the British fleet would be formed into three lines, with the fastest ships kept in the first division and always windward. The rest would be in the other two lines, and the entire plan would hinge on the trust between Nelson and his fellow captains. Nelson's plan called for a pell-mell battle, where no one could control the action – but that was what he wanted. He wanted that element of surprise."

Since no one objected to his lecture (they were too busy listening to that Sexy British Accent), the Briton picked up the book and started reading again.

"In Cádiz harbour, by contrast, the mood could not have been bleaker. In contrast to Nelson's band of brothers, Villeneuve was hardly on speaking terms with most of his officers. His vice admiral, Dumanoir, was still miffed that he had been passed over when Villeneuve was appointed to command. Rear admiral Magon had been so furious when Villeneuve had refused to fight the British on July 22 that he had cursed him from his quarterdeck on the 74-gun _Algésiras_, and threw his telescope and even his wig, at Villeneuve's flagship. Villeneuve's Spanish allies, Admiral Gravina and his subordinates, were outwardly respectful but silently disapproving. They sensed Villeneuve had led them into a trap." There, he looked up again. "Can anyone tell me what the situation would have looked like to us Nations?"

The students jumped slightly at the question, but Hotaru answered. "Er… Francis looking pissy and pessimistic, with a poker-faced Antonio standing next to him… and across the room, a smug Arthur?"

"Seems about right," Arthur replied, looking smug indeed. "The French navy had some internal disputes – as you can tell, not everyone liked Admiral Villeneuve. The Spanish didn't want to be there in the first place. Trafalgar was pretty much a British victory from the beginning, if these attitudes are anything worth noticing." He paused. "Now back to the story."

He flipped a few more pages and began to read once more. "The mood on each side was different. On the French and Spanish ships, a sense of dread and doom. On the British, excitement and eagerness for combat. Villeneuve and his men were fighting for the sake of honour; Nelson's men were fighting to win. Nelson was not facing an enterprising opponent, and he knew his opponent's standards of gunnery: slow, inaccurate, and uncertain. The tension was mounting, as the _Victory_ was less than three miles from the nearest enemy ship." Arthur looked up again. "And here, Nelson gives a very famous message," he said. "Can anyone guess what it is?"

"God save the Queen?" Alexandria Russell guessed.

"Good heavens, no," Arthur snapped. "England expects every man to do his duty. That is the message he sends before the battle begins. Originally, the plan was to say 'Nelson confides that every man will do his duty', but that would have taken too long to relay." He looked at the next page. "And now the battle begins."

People drifted in and out of sleep as Arthur read his book proudly, obviously reliving his glory days with every word. Jennifer and the other Anglophiles hung onto every sentence. Dammit, that Sexy British Accent was hypnotising, and coupled with a blow-by-blow account of the Battle of Trafalgar…

"At 1:35 Nelson was speaking to Hardy when he suddenly fell to his knees. 'They are done for me at last,' he whispered to his stunned friend. 'My backbone is shot through.'"

"No!" the Anglophiles gasped in unison.

"Not Nelson!" squeaked Kriss, her face pale.

"Why'd he have to die?" Jennifer breathed.

Arthur wiped away a tear. "A Frenchman shot him in the left shoulder; the bullet penetrated his chest into his spine," he replied hoarsely.

In the end, he read about Nelson's death in a voice worthy of any Shakesparean tragic actor. "The last shots of the Battle of Trafalgar were fired at around six o'clock, after nearly seven hours of continuous fighting. Two hours earlier Horatio Nelson had died in the ams of his heartbroken captain, Thomas Hardy."

There were some giggles from the gutter-minded yaoi fangirls, but Arthur glared at them before continuing. "He had lived just long enough to learn that he had won the decisive battle he yearned for: the greatest fleet battle of the age of fighting sail. In a body of water not more than a mile and a half square, sixty great men-of-war had slugged it out for control of the oceans. To those still alive, it had been worth it, despite their admiral's death. In their minds, they had smashed the enemy's fleet as a fighting force and buried any chance of Napoleon's invasion of England." Once again, Arthur paused. "But it had all been for nothing," he said quietly.

"What?" screeched the Anglophiles.

"Yes. Napoleon had already started advancing into Germany while the battle was going on. In a sense, all Trafalgar did was prove the might of the British navy. Horatio Nelson died almost needlessly, but he is still remembered today as a great hero. His funeral lasted four hours, and he laid in a sarcophagus that was originally intended for Cardinal Wolsey. English Protestantism embraced him as a secular martyr – almost as an English Christ. More than fifty streets, squares, terraces, passages, and alleyways in London are named after him – not counting Trafalgar Square's Nelson Column. Horatio Nelson became a role model for Englishmen; he symbolised the virtues that English society upheld and the greatness of the Royal Navy."

And once again, it was just another day in the 'History: Age of Empire' class with Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

"We learned about the Battle of Trafalgar today," Kriss gloated to Alexander at lunch. They were sitting side-by-side at the Asia table, Kriss leaning slightly against Alexander.

"That sounds nice," Alexander replied distractedly, eating his Valencian paella without even realising that he was eating snails and rabbits along with the rice. "We talked about the fall of the Roman Empire."

"Ooh, I remember learning that," Kriss giggled. "Did Ivan do the barbarian yell?"

"He has one?" Alexander echoed.

"Well, when we covered the fall of Rome, Alfred interrupted halfway by calling Ivan a disgusting fat little worm. Ivan replied by calling Alfred a barbarian who did nothing but yell 'GRARRRRGH!' and sack innocent Roman cities."

"Alfred wasn't even alive then."

"Yes, but I suppose Ivan was just trying to come up with a quick retort," Kriss reasoned. "It seemed pretty canned."

"Well, Alfred didn't interrupt, so I guess Ivan didn't do his barbaric yell." Alexander shrugged and ate another snail without knowing it. After all, no one expected snails in Spanish cuisine; everyone was too busy expecting snails in French cuisine.

"You guys always miss out on the cool stuff," Kriss snickered. "I heard KyAnna and Laisai talking about how lame Platonic Love class is with Pirate Arthur and Aviator Alfred. We had it awesome last semester, when normal Arthur and Alfred taught the subject."

"I heard something about Chuck Norris being in Alfred's presentations." Alexander looked as if he got the short end of the stick. "Why can't I be in your class?"

Kriss snickered and kissed his cheek. "Because you didn't write your fanfic quick enough," she replied. "Speaking of which, I keep on getting the feeling that you're not really a Hetalia fan. Why not?"

Alexander blushed slightly. "It was Jennifer's fault for even mentioning it," he replied, shrugging. "I mean, I didn't quite know where to start; she said to just watch it but I had no idea how and where. And then she kept on giggling about that England…"

Kriss suppressed her own giggles. "Then why'd you write a fanfic?" she wondered.

"Dunno. I had too much sugar."

"Do you think Jen broke up with you because you weren't a Hetalia fan?" That question threw the Briton off for a few minutes; he stared owlishly at her as he tried to come up with a response.

"Er, dunno," he said after a moment. "She had her own reasons, I suppose."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have pried," Kriss said almost immediately.

"Nah, whatever," Alexander replied with a shrug. "It's entirely possible."

* * *

True to their rivalry, Alfred and Ivan were conducting a Cold War of snowball proportions that afternoon, in the middle of Kriss and Merka's skiing lessons. Merka had missed a great deal of skiing lessons due to hockey practice, so it was no surprise that she had absolutely no idea how to get down the mountain in one piece.

"Pizza, Merk, pizza!" Jennifer hollered as she skied past the floundering fangirl on her way to the rental shop; Workbitch was waiting there with skates.

"Easy for you to say; you've already learnt this!" Merka screamed back before collapsing. "Arrrrthuuur, help me!" she whined pathetically. Said thick-browed Briton, however, was talking to Kiku at the top of the mountain.

Kriss chose that moment to appear. "Is everyone else in the class better than me at skiing or something?" Merka complained petulantly. Kriss snickered but managed to stop herself before she crashed into Merka.

"It's a possibility," Kriss suggested with a grin, extending a hand to Merka to help her stand. "Ski with me back to the dorms? You know, just in case you fall and break your jaw or something."

"You're helpful," huffed Merka, blushing nonetheless as she took Kriss's hand and got back on her skis. The two girls started heading downhill again. "How are things between you and Alexander?" Merka asked mid-turn, not even keeping the jealousy out of her voice.

Kriss shrugged. "Fine. What about yourself and Lucia?"

Merka paused before grinning. "Fine," she replied.

"That's helpful," Kriss deadpanned.

"I know."

When the two of them managed to ski down the mountain without any serious falls (other than Merka faceplanting again and Kriss crashing into a tree), they parted ways at the rental shop. Kriss had spotted Alexander near one of the snowmen still remaining (the others had been bombed into oblivion by the current snowball edition of the Cold War); Merka pointedly looked away from them to see Lucia sitting by the lake.

The mermaid was heavily bundled and watching Megan and Andrew Ho make fools of themselves on the ice. Karen Sanghieh was tentatively skating to the side, looking ready to scream and fall any second. Merka took a seat on the bench next to Lucia, her expression concerned.

"Something wrong?" she asked as Megan did a stupid-looking pirouette-like twirl and crashed into Karen Sanghieh, who predictably screamed and fell. Jennifer and Workbitch skated by to help Karen up; Merka thought Jennifer looked more graceful on skis. Considering that Jennifer could make an elephant look graceful, that was saying something.

But back to Lucia. One look at the laughing expression on her alien ex's face (Megan apparently found the entire collision hysterical, much to Karen's chagrin), the mermaid burst into tears.

"Lucia, come on, tell me what's wrong," Merka coaxed.

"Megan told me to stay away from her," Lucia replied. "She said I was too clingy and she was feeling claustrophobic."

Merka paused. "I thought you were avoiding Megan."

"I…" Lucia sniffled. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" She blew her nose with her scarf.

"Sure," Merka sighed.

Moments later, the two of them were cloistered away in Merka and Kriss's room. Kriss was probably off Anglophiling on her boyfriend, so they were guaranteed privacy (unless Kitty hadn't removed the cameras and microphones from the wallpaper like she had promised, but Merka didn't give a damn).

"Coffee?" the USUK fangirl asked. Despite being an Anglophile, Merka was also a die-hard member of the Coalition of Coffee Drinkers. Lucia laughed bitterly.

"Lots of sugar with it, please," she said, tucking herself away in Kriss's blankets (Merka had no scruples about that; Kriss never used her own bed nowadays) and surrounding herself with a fort of tissue boxes.

"Will do," Merka replied, smiling as she left the room. She came back with two steaming mugs of coffee, freshly nicked from the cafeteria.

"How much sugar?" Lucia's muffled voice came from the blanket burrito within the tissue-box fort.

"A truckload," Merka said, causing the mermaid to perk up and take her mug. "Now, spill."

"This afternoon I approached Megan because Anita told me that she wanted to tell me something. So Megan told me that she regretted everything and thought we were better off as friends, because she takes sex and kissing very casually –"

"Never would have thought of that," Merka deadpanned, sipping her own coffee. "Go on."

"So… like I said, she takes those things really casually." Lucia paused. "Then she said that she thinks that she's straight, because while she likes the whole 'making out naked' and 'making obnoxious sex noises to troll the neighbours' thing, she thought I was getting too emotionally invested. And that I was too clingy."

"Clingy?" echoed Merka. "How so?"

"Like…" Lucia frowned, sipping her over-sweetened coffee. "I don't know. She wanted space, but she couldn't figure out how to let me know. But either way, she thinks she's incapable of falling in _love_ with another girl, which totally sucks because –"

"You're hopelessly in love with her," Merka finished. "Sip."

Lucia took another sip of coffee. "Yeah, so now she just wants to be friends – after she gets her space issues worked out."

"Well, then give her the space she needs," reasoned Merka. "I mean, if you loved her, you would. Wouldn't you?"

"I just find it hypocritical in a way," Lucia mumbled, "that she would demand space from me while she sleeps with the rest of the school."

Merka sighed, taking a sip from her own mug. "Yeah," she said. "I… really suck at talking about personal problems."

Lucia snorted. "You're helpful," she replied sarcastically, but she smiled nonetheless. "At least you're listening."

* * *

"Kempeitai Kiku disappeared," Shinbun-kun announced at dinner, as Mr. Hugh watched Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert bet on which student group would win the food fight that night – Spamano or PortSpa. Portugal was leaning over the couch, trying to keep his bottle of beer away from Antonio and Gilbert as he watched.

"They're taking the Spy Nations?" Mr. Hugh asked, looking up from a letter. "Any new leads?"

At that moment, SatW England and Arthur entered the room with a long list. "We have the list of possible crossover pairings," Arthur replied excitedly, waving the list about. "Now the only question is… do we find the missing Staff members before we seal the plothole, or after?"

"I think it's easier to seal it before we transport everyone back," Mr. Hugh replied, holding up the Remote Activator. "We need everything stabilised before we move anyone, and we can use this to transport people even after the plothole is sealed."

"When do we begin this?" SatW England asked, gesturing to the list.

"As soon as possible," Mr. Hugh answered, turning to Ludwig. "Ludwig, your seminar is still scheduled for this weekend, right?"

"There's a blizzard predicted for Saturday evening," answered the German. "Provided that the geography does not get mutilated beyond recognition, the seminar will go on as planned."

"We'll have to put up a list of supplies for the students to bring," SatW Norway added; he had agreed to help Ludwig teach. "And no, Denmark, we're not making you come along." That last part was directed at an obviously trembling SatW Denmark, who looked deathly pale.

"Oh, good," whimpered the Dane, who then proceeded to curl into the foetal position with a bottle of beer.

Mr. Hugh laughed before leaving the room; he walked to his office with the letter still crumpled in his hand. In his office, the Course Coordinator walked to the window and looked down at the letter.

"Appointment at the Medical Ward tomorrow, to deal with the pregnancy issue," he said to no one in particular, although he knew Mr. Allen was listening somewhere in the back of his mind. "Maybe we can have it aborted."

_Have you ever heard of a Mary Sue aborting her baby_? Mr. Allen's voice, with its crisp American accent, rang through his head. _It's unheard of_.

"But Takara's technically not," reasoned Mr. Hugh, leaning his head against the windowpane. Outside, Charlie Tenterden was being chased away by a giant eraser. Eraser, spawned from a misspelling of Mr. Hugh's last name (Mr. Hugh Eraser, honestly? He was going to kill the fanstudent responsible), apparently had the ability to erase various body parts. That definitely explained Charlie's desire to put a couple of miles between him and the giant eraser.

But Charlie didn't get far. Much to Mr. Hugh's amusement, the fanboy got caught in the crossfire between Ivan and Alfred. Chuckling to himself, the Course Coordinator watched the snowball-infested carnage, wondering how long it would take for them to dig up Charlie's erased remains for a resurrection.

The letter quickly fell to the ground, forgotten for now.


	37. Of Crossover Sues and Blizzards

**Notes:** Can I just say I flipping hate this new computer? It randomly switches into Chinese. I guess it's because my parents got the new Windows 7 program in Chinese, and I flipping hate it. Can't even type my accents without a random language change… maybe I'll get a laptop with Windows 7 in French. Or a Mac.

**Disclaimer:** Haven and Artemis Fowl belong to Eoin Colfer.

* * *

**Part XII**

"Miss Takara, you have a visitor," Nurse Suzine announced, poking her head into the room. Takara looked up from her book, paling when she saw Mr. Hugh enter.

"H-hello," she stammered, crawling back on her bead and leaning against the wall like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit jar. Mr. Hugh took a seat, his expression businesslike.

"Hello," he replied, taking out a document. "We're here to discuss the child."

Takara had to hand it to him for nonchalance. "Yes, the child," she mumbled.

"But before we talk about that… how are you?" Mr. Hugh looked at her levelly. "The treatments are effective, I hope?"

Takara nodded. "Y-yeah," she whispered. "My brain feels like mush."

Mr. Hugh laughed shortly before consulting his documents again. "Well, at least you're still cracking jokes," he remarked drily. "Now, about the child. Are you planning to abort?"

"No, should I?" Takara wondered aloud. She hadn't even considered abortion, even when they told her that she was pregnant. Maybe it was _because_ her brain felt like mush.

"It would be the most expedient way to handle the situation," Mr. Hugh replied. "You see, the nurses fear that this child will be born a Mary Sue. It was conceived while you still had large amounts of Glitter in your bloodstream, and since your Glitter Levels have only diminished to 140, the foetus still remains in a Glitter-rich environment and will try to absorb as much of it as possible. Abortion means one less Mary Sue in this world, and it will save us the pain of having to de-Glitterify the baby after birth."

"B-but… I-I don't want to kill," Takara stammered. Leave it to Mr. Hugh to cold-bloodedly discuss killing something within her. Hadn't he harmed her enough?

"The foetus hasn't even been born yet," Mr. Hugh pointed out. "You haven't even completed the first trimester."

Takara shook her head. "Look, you've already taken so many things away from me," she complained. "I don't want you to take this child from me, too."

Mr. Hugh looked sharply at her. "You do understand the risks of carrying a Mary Sue foetus?" he asked harshly. "And you know the costs of raising this child, not including the de-Glitterification? Are you willing to handle that?"

"Are you willing to murder something so helpless?" Takara retorted.

"Look, Takara," sighed Mr. Hugh, leaning towards her as if about to divulge a secret. "If we had been any other couple in any other place at any other time, I would have agreed to raise the child. But to do that at IAHF is costly. The other Nations pay generously to maintain that state-of-the-art Nursery and to keep their Chibi Nations there. You and I don't have high enough salaries to do the same."

"But there's got to be an alternative to abortion," Takara reasoned. "I don't want to see the child killed."

Mr. Hugh frowned. "Would you be willing to give it up for adoption, then? Provided that someone here at HQ is willing to raise it? The PPC Nursery is a more inexpensive choice, after all."

Takara paused. "That seems like a better option," she said after a moment.

* * *

"A crossover Mary Sue," lectured Hermione on Thursday afternoon, "is a Mary Sue that usually acts as a bridge between two fandoms. She can be a witch who meets Arthur, or a Nation who goes to Hogwarts… maybe a Time Lady who meets the Nations and then goes to Hogwarts. Sometimes the Mary Sue will claim parentage from both fandoms – the daughter of Gilderoy Lockhart and Francis, perhaps."

"Ew," Ron grimaced. "Hermione, blokes can't have babies."

"Never stopped a fanbrat before," Hermione pointed out. Wizard Arthur winced in agreement.

"Those two would get along splendidly, though," he added. For the occasion, he was wearing the Harry Potter spoilers shirt. Several students were cowering in their seats, trying not to read the shirt. Even the Harry Potter characters were looking anywhere except there.

No one wanted to be notified (or reminded) of the fact that Snape killed Dumbledore, after all.

"Let's try a more unlikely couple, then," Hermione sighed. "How about the daughter of Arthur and Lily Evans? That makes her Harry's half-sister, too."

"But my mum never –" spluttered Harry.

"Who knows," Draco remarked snidely, smirking at Harry's shocked reaction.

"That's still likely to happen," Wizard Arthur cut in, folding his arms. "I mean, maybe before she got married to your dad, Harry, she –"

"MY MUM WOULD NEVER!" screamed the Boy Who Lived.

"Well, for a time she did hate your dad's guts," Wizard Arthur pointed out, smirking.

"Fine, something even more unlikely," growled Hermione. "Sirius Black and Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"That's even more likely than Arthur and Harry's mum," Ron groaned.

"Harry and Alfred."

"They both have hero complexes," Draco snapped.

"I don't have a hero complex!" Harry protested. "I just… find myself saving people all the time!"

"Sure, Potter, and I'm Celestina Warbeck," Draco remarked drily.

"Wait, you are?" Ron echoed.

Hermione groaned. "Ron, sarcasm _isn't_ a Muggle invention," she complained. "Fine, someone give me an unlikely couple for our crossover Mary Sue."

"Snape and Feliks," Natashia Fernandez said immediately. Several of her peers winced.

"Yup, that's_ never_ gonna happen," Harry agreed. "Can we list a couple that might actually biologically produce a child?"

"Arthur and Bellatrix Lestrange," Laurel Martin answered. "Since she seems to have the hots for Lord Moldyshorts."

"How dare you disrespect the Dark Lord's name!" snapped Draco. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were snickering with the rest of the class. The enraged Malfoy drew his wand and turned Laurel into a pine martin.

"Circe's pigs, Ferret-face, you didn't have to_ Transfigure_ her," Ron rebuked.

"Would you like me to turn you into a weasel, Weaselhead?" Draco retorted.

"Back to crossover Mary Sues!" Hermione barked. "A crossover Mary Sue, like we said before, is a bridge between two fandoms. She might be a witch that meets a Nation or a Nation that goes to Hogwarts –"

"But what if we used a canon character for that?" Karin Guarez asked.

"I meant an Original Character who does that," Hermione corrected. "Anyways, she might be descended from canon characters in both fandoms, or she gets together with one or more of the characters in each fandom."

"Using our example," Wizard Arthur agreed, "we can talk about my imaginary kid with Bellatrix Lestrange. She'll be the personification of London, and an extremely talented witch despite the fact that not all wizards live in London –"

"To be truthful, we try not to live in Muggle cities," Ron pointed out. "Too many people to Confound."

"Yes, there's probably a higher ratio of Muggles to wizards in cities like London," agreed Hermione. "But back to the imaginary child. Let's see… she also has to outdo the rest of us, so she'll be smarter than me."

"And better at Quidditch than me," Harry added.

"Richer than Weasley – wait, everyone's richer than Weasley," Draco sneered. Ron cuffed him.

"She'll be prissier than Malfoy," the redhead growled. Harry snickered.

"And apparently there's a prophecy made about her that Arthur kept secret from Bellatrix; he took the child away from her at birth because he didn't want her to become evil," Harry added. "But that's actually a good idea, I think. If Mary Sue was raised by Bellatrix, she'd be fit to go to Bedlam."

"Can you imagine it?" Ron snickered. "Bellatrix would probably use the Cruciatus Curse on her own kid to discipline her. I'd take Arthur's cooking over that any day."

"Great, back to the cooking insults," growled Wizard Arthur. "Can you see just how annoying, unoriginal, and damaging a crossover Mary Sue can be?" Several students nodded.

"But wait, wait, the Mary Sue's not complete without ensnaring someone!" Hermione exclaimed. "She'll end up with… Malfoy!"

"No!" snapped Draco. "I would never!"

"Come on, she'd be pureblood and prissy, just like you!" Harry exclaimed. He paused. "Only she'd be in Gryffindor, since most Mary Sues go there."

"Nope, I think this one goes to Slytherin like a good hipster Sue," Wizard Arthur deadpanned. "Gryffindor's_ so_ mainstream."

"Yup, definitely with Malfoy. And then she'll turn evil for a period but then be converted back to good because she missed hanging out with Alfred, who's in Gryffindor," Hermione reasoned. "I think you get the picture."

"That last part made no sense, Stranger," Draco snapped. "If she's going to be with me, shouldn't she be evil all the time?"

"No, because here's the good part – she makes you and Harry become Best Friends Forever because of her conversion," Hermione said, grinning evilly. Draco cowered.

Wizard Arthur coughed. "All right, all right. I'm passing out these packets for homework. There are four crossover Mary Sues in here, and you have to point out their similarities, their differences, and what makes them unoriginal. All of them are crosses between Hetalia and another fandom – and not just Harry Potter."

"Here, why don't we list the Sues for you?" Hermione offered, taking one of the packets. "Here we have Arlinaria Silverwyn, the personification of Middle-earth, who falls in love with Arthur Kirkland. The two of them join the Fellowship of the Ring."

"So that's Hetalia and _Lord of the Rings_," agreed Wizard Arthur. "Next one is Carrie Pevensie, who is taken to my house to escape the bombing of London. She discovers Narnia through my kitchen cupboard. Once there, Aslan declares her the personification of Narnia and lets her marry Prince Caspian."

"Hetalia and Narnia," Shelby answered.

"Next one," said Harry, "is the state of Massachusetts, Tiffany Calanthe Berezi Euterpe Jones. She's the daughter of Alfred and…" he paused. "Ew."

"What?" Ron demanded, looking over Harry's shoulder. "You-Know-Who!" he screeched.

"Alfred and Voldemort?" Wizard Arthur echoed, causing Ron and Draco to flinch. "That… that…"

"That's bloody impossible," agreed Harry. "Anyways. Tiffany goes to Hogwarts, gets into Gryffindor despite being Voldemort's kid, and falls in love with… me."

"I guess there's one in-law you will _never_ get along with, Harry," joked Wizard Arthur. Harry looked ready to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

"The last one," announced Ron, "is Orchid Sakura Short, personification of Haven." He paused. "Whatever that is."

"It's an underground city of faeries," Anastasia Debby explained. "It's from _Artemis Fowl_."

"Okay," said Ron, looking unsure. "Yeah, so apparently she's the personification of… faeries. She… uh…" he squinted at the page. "She and Arthur fall in love, of course, because he likes faeries."

"Won't there's be a height difference?" Draco complained.

"Yeah, maybe, but she's got this bloke named Artemis Fowl after her as well." Ron nodded. "Yeah."

Some of the students were already panicking and asking for information on the other books. Once class was dismissed, the students (excluding Laurel the Pine Martin, since she had to be turned back into a human) all scrambled to get to the library. The majority of people were trying to get to the copies of the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. Some of them fainted when they saw how thick the books were.

"We're just going to have to collaborate on these," Jennifer complained as she took her seat with the other Anglophiles. "Who here knows about the _Lord of the Rings_ without needing to get a book?"

"I've seen the movies," Merka offered. "Only… they were really long and I fell asleep during the boring parts."

"Great," groaned Kriss. "We're dead."

* * *

But trying to figure out the similarities and differences between those four crossover Mary Sues would soon become the least of the students' worries.

"Wait, we're… going out… in that?" complained Celeste on Saturday morning. Her roommate Hotaru groaned and buried her head under a pillow.

"It's a fucking blizzard out there!" the other fangirl whined, her voice muffled by her bedding. "We're all going to die of frostbite!"

"Why did Ludwig have to pick today for the Survival Skills seminar?" Celeste moaned, thudding her head against the windowpane. Outside the wind howled and the snow fell furiously. "Why?"

That was the question on pretty much everyone else's mind when they gathered at sundown outside the Orientation Hall. Everyone was bundled up and carried a mountain of blankets in addition to their supplies. Only Karen DuLay looked eager for the trip; she was practically bouncing with excitement and seemed to carrying tubs of… was that petrol?

"Karen, I don't think you're going to be able to start a fire with all of this wind," Kiri Olaveja pointed out as Ludwig arrived on the scene with SatW Norway in tow.

"Shut up, I want to listen to Ludwig," Karen growled back, as the German started giving instructions.

The students soon found themselves trekking after Ludwig in the cold, lugging along their backpacks and other camping equipment. SatW Norway and Ludwig were up front, laughing about something while the students trudged behind wondering what was so funny about walking about in a blizzard.

"I bet Ivan asked General Winter to do this," KyAnna complained to Monochrome Cloud.

"Evil bugger," Monochrome agreed, her head bowed against the wind. A few paces away, Andy was trying to light a cigarette, but his lighter kept going out. Next to him, Sara Parker was clutching a bottle of Danish beer (she had paid the beer ghost to steal it from SatW Denmark on Friday) as if her life depended on it. It might have, since alcohol did provide warmth.

"You know, Luddy," Karen DuLay hollered as they finally stumbled upon their campsite (the Academy buildings had disappeared by now, replaced by a forest of bare tree trunks and frosted firs. "Aren't we supposed to spoon for warmth out here?"

"He's not going to spoon with you," Kiri Olaveja retorted.

"And who says he's going to spoon with _you_?" Karen retorted.

The other students began to set up camp.

* * *

"Ouch," whistled SatW America as they watched the mayhem from Kiku's camera feeds. The intrepid Japanese voyeur had installed weather-resistant cameras on the trees near the camp a week ago.

"Is that… fire?" John Bull demanded, puffing on his cigar.

"Mein Gott," SatW Prussia muttered. King Europe bounced behind him, trying to see the screen.

"For the love of peace, Prussia, take off that hat!" King Europe finally exclaimed, exasperated. "You're blocking the view!"

"The awesome Prussia doesn't listen to orders from stinking third-world countries like you!" Gilbert snapped. A gasp rang through the National personifications.

"He called someone third-world!" SatW America exclaimed, ever the tattler. "Daddy, daddy, make him go to jail! You said it was a bad word!" SatW England rolled his eyes.

"I'm not even third-world!" King Europe spluttered. "You're part of me, you nonexistent Nation!"

More gasps. "Isn't that a bad word, too?" SatW America asked.

"Calm down, America," SatW England growled. "They're insults, yes, but they're not bad words."

"What does third-world even mean?" Afuganisu-tan asked Pakisu-tan.

"It means someone just emerging from imperialism, someone who usually has economic and social instability, not to mention a corrupt government," SatW Sweden cut in before Pakisu-tan could reply. "It's one of the worst insults Nations have."

"But how Gilbert used it doesn't make sense, since King Europe _did_ the imperialising," Seychelles pointed out sadly.

"He still used it with the intent to insult," SatW Sweden replied.

Everyone turned their attention back to the screen. Apparently Karen DuLay had set several students' tents on fire, but that didn't seem to perturb the others. They were pretty cold, after all.

"She's trying to sneak into Ludwig's tent," Sister Germany said suddenly, frowning.

"There go the Mochis," Kiku replied, pointing to some white blobs parachuting out of the nearby trees. "Lduwig, Desutchland, Allemange are converging on her right now."

"That's got to hurt," Meriken sighed, leaning against Alfred nonchalantly.

The door to the room opened and Mr. Allen strode in with Arthur and the Bled Pinjas. "What's going on?" the Course Coordinator demanded.

"Ludwig's Winter Survival seminar," explained SatW England, looking away from the screen to smile at Arthur.

"Lovely. Well, the Bled Pinjas –"

"You two were responsible for repainting the guest rooms?" Point Man Arthur demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Pirate Arthur and Ninja Kiku.

"It's an IAHF tradition," Ninja Kiku replied cheerily. "We have information for you regarding the whereabouts of the disappearing Nations."

"Who died this time?" Belgium demanded, discreetly scooting away from SatW Belgium. The nerdy redhead looked rather put off by that.

"The PPC Tech department finished developing their tracking devices today and gave three of them to us," explained Ninja Kiku. "We put them on MI6 Arthur, DGSE Francis, and McCarthy Alfred. They all disappeared earlier today. MI6 Arthur and DGSE Francis went to your world," here he pointed to the SatW Nations, "and McCarthy Alfred went to our parallel universe."

Dead silence. "Wait, wait, you never told us you had a parallel universe," SatW England snapped. "What is it, exactly?"

"A parallel universe where everyone wears cat ears and prances around shirtless," Francis replied immediately. "There are at least twenty-three versions of me."

"The versions of Alfred there are horrendously perverted," added Arthur. "And there was that one version of Antonio that Assbitch liked…"

"Either way, it's cracky," Alfred agreed. "They're pretty much separate from us."

Mr. Allen nodded. "It's a start, though," he said. "We can go to the parallel world and ask for help from them. They seem to know how to travel between worlds, since they did that during one of the previous Christmas Bloodbaths."

"Try to get Parallel France Number 23," suggested Tino. "I heard he's friendlier than the others."

Mr. Allen pushed a couple of buttons on his Remote Activator and summoned up a portal. "Someone needs to come with me," he said.

"We be goin' wi' yeh," Pirate Arthur drawled. "Jus' in case yeh turn inta Mr. Hugh."

"Yes, we can't have you stuck in there forever because you broke the portal thingy," Ninja Kiku agreed. "Let's go."

"Good luck," the others called as the three of them stepped through the blue doorway. The portal flickered and then disappeared as soon as Mr. Allen vanished.

"Here's to hoping they make it back in one piece," SatW Denmark declared, fumbling for his beer. He paused. "Okay, which one of you stole my beer?"


	38. Love is Somewhat In the Air

**Notes:** I am so psyched for chapter thirty-nine. :'D It shows just how much of a nerd I am, researching little-known treaties and alliances. (Yes, you may guess on which pairing.)

* * *

**Part XIII**

"Worst. Camping. Trip. Ever."

"Screw the Quest for the Ring, _that_ was the Camping Trip from Hell."

"You weren't even on the Quest, Loki."

"Shut up, a demon can dream."

Come Monday, the students were still trying to warm up in language class. The teachers didn't sympathise with them – in fact, they found the students' misery amusing.

"You think you have it bad, eh?" the Rome-Wall demanded in Latin class after Sabrina complained about the temperature for the umpteenth time. "Try being a wall sometime. You'll be so glad to be a part… whatever you are."

"But we're cold," whined Sabrina.

"Get a grip, girl," snapped the Rome-Wall. "We're going to talk about the adjectives of irregular comparison today. Someone please come to the board and write them down for me. You will, Franklin? Good."

Franklin got up and walked to the board, taking the marker and looking expectantly at the Rome Wall.

"Right. First line, first column, write 'bónus, bóna, bónum'. Same line, second column, write 'mélior, mélius'. Same line, third column, write 'óptimus, óptima, óptimum'." He paused to let Franklin write. "Can anyone tell me the correlation between these?"

"They all mean good, but the second column list comparatives and the third column lists superlatives," Franklin immediately said. "After all, in other languages like French, the positive is 'bon', the comparative is 'meilleur', and the superlative is 'mieux'."

"And 'optimum' means 'best'," added Sabrina.

"Good, good," the Rome-Wall turned to Franklin. "Next line, then. Write 'mágnus, mágna, mágnum'. Then 'máior, máius'. Then 'máximus, máxima, máximum'."

"Great, greater, greatest," Eva Danielson said immediately.

"Next line," replied the Rome-Wall, "write 'málus, mála, málum'. Then 'péior, péius'. Then 'péssimus, péssima, péssimum'."

"Bad, worse, worst," listed Sabrina.

* * *

After Latin class, the Rome-Wall's students met up with the Italian students. "Lovino gave us a pop quiz!" whined Lydiacatfish. "I forgot everything!"

"No, you didn't," consoled Hotaru.

"Easy for you to say, you probably have top marks in the class," snapped Lydia.

"I'm just naturally talented at languages," Hotaru boasted. "But still, I don't think you did _that _badly."

"It was a pop quiz!"

The Italian and Latin students met up with everyone else outside the cafeteria. "We wrote essays in French today," Kiril Loris reported, slinging an arm around Enrique Escatara. The werewolf growled at him. "Shush, dog."

"Takes one to know one, leech," Enrique snapped. Kiril would have glared, but his chocolate-fountain eyes ruined the glaring effect.

"You two are cute," Kitty Smith remarked with a smirk as she walked past into the cafeteria. "Oh hey, we have wontons for lunch today."

"RoChu versus Pandaburger?" someone called.

"Kochagumi never gets represented," Grace whined.

"That's because people don't like Kochagumi, what with the Opium War and everything," Karin Guarez explained.

"But the angst!" Grace flapped her arms wildly. "The opium-induced angst! Poor China!"

"China's not so poor nowadays, if you come to think about it," Alice Wang pointed out.

Jennifer took a seat at the North America table as usual. "Valentine's Day comes up in two weeks," she noted cheerily.

"You're only happy because you have Workbitch," pouted Lucia as she sat down with Merka. "Think of all the poor lonely souls out there!"

"Oh shush, I bet Kitty and Anita are planning to play Cupid," Jennifer rebuked. "They might even rope in Aloisio Guerra."

"But Aloisio's obsessed with Karen DuLay," Merka pointed out, grimacing. She, Lucia, and Jennifer had shared a tent on the Camping Trip from Hell, and Karen had set theirs on fire in the middle of the night. They still had the burns and the singed hair to prove it.

"He's also a Cupid," Lucia said, grinning. "Maybe…"

"Nope, it's not going to happen," Merka sighed, patting the mermaid's shoulder. "She's too far gone."

"A mermaid can dream," retorted Lucia.

* * *

The snow started receding in February. After one last snowstorm halfway through the first week, the snow levels started dropping. Chibi Ivan had been recording the depths of the snow; according to him the highest snow levels were in December with an average of 91 centimetres. Now the snow was only 30 centimetres deep.

"I think the snow will go away by March," he had announced proudly to the other Chibi Nations in the Nursery, but they were too busy squabbling amongst themselves to pay attention to him.

Mr. Allen and the Bled Pinjas returned the first Friday of February. "Oh, you're back," Aviator Alfred said as Pirate Arthur stepped through. "The students were wondering where you were."

"I'd bin workin'," snapped Pirate England. "'S none o' yer business."

Mr. Allen took the stack of notes from Ninja Kiku and gestured for Arthur. "Parallel Francis gave us some insight into the crossover plothole," he said as soon as they had left the room. "Apparently your theory is correct."

"Of course," replied Arthur pompously.

Mr. Allen raised both eyebrows. "He also said that you have sealed that plothole before."

At that, Arthur paled. "What?" he echoed. "How would he know?"

Mr. Allen looked at him intently. "Is he speaking the truth?"

"He must be bluffing," Arthur replied immediately.

"Bluffing about what?" Mr. Allen wondered, feeling a headache come on. Mr. Hugh was starting to emerge.

"That's of no importance. What else did the Parallel Frog say?" Arthur demanded.

Mr. Hugh tilted his head to the side and blinked at Arthur. "Well… he said that over the summer he had witnessed you sealing the crossover plothole because a smaller crossover crisis had happened then, around the time Bled was created. I really wouldn't know, since I appeared in August, a month after the crisis."

"How did he witness it?" Arthur asked.

"Are you saying that you did seal the crossover plothole before?" Mr. Hugh countered.

Arthur sighed. "I'm sure there's a more permanent way to seal that plothole, because what I did made it close only temporarily."

"What did you do?" Mr. Hugh asked.

"Look, I said it takes unresolved sexual tension to create a crossover plothole, yeah? Well, to seal it, I thought that resolving the tension would do the trick. The thing is, I didn't resolve it with one of the visitors. So that might be why it was temporary. I'm hoping that actually using a crossover pairing will make the thing go away."

Mr. Hugh nodded. "Right. Well, here's to hoping that you and SatW England can solve this."

Arthur looked at Mr. Hugh sharply. "_What_ are you insinuating?"

"We have to start as soon as possible," Mr. Hugh replied. "First, you and SatW England, then you and Point Man Arthur. If neither works, we'll go down the list you created."

"I'll get on that, then," Arthur replied, his cheeks flaming red.

* * *

"Adding another sticker?" Jennifer asked Megan, on one of the rare occasions that the alien was in their room. "Who did you sleep with now?" Already, Megan had five stickers on her wall: Andrew Ho, Lucia, Sabrina, William Ofritas, and Enrique Escatara. Jennifer only knew that because of Kitty and Anita's chart.

"Oh, Ryosuke Nakayama," Megan replied nonchalantly. "I think I deflowered him. He came ridiculously quickly."

"I did not need to know that," Jennifer groaned. "It's not TMI Tuesday, you know." She paused. "Who's the next target?"

Megan smirked. "Oh, I wonder," she purred, turning away from her wall.

"It's not me, is it?" Jennifer demanded, wrapping herself in her blankets. "Go away."

"Why not?" Megan grinned. "Come on, Jennifoos. Friends with benefits, what about it?"

"Nope," Jennifer replied. "Merka's got enough on her hands dealing with Lucia's post-relationship angst issues. I don't want to overburden her with mine."

"Wait, wait, Merkity-derkity and Luchie-poo are going out?" Megan looked bewildered.

"Sort of," Jennifer remarked, shrugging. "It's on the chart." She got out of her blanket cocoon and put on her coat. "I'm going to take a walk. Go find someone else to add to your wall."

"Oh, yeah, I gotta meet Andrew. I heard they finally resurrected Charlie Tenterden!" Megan grinned wickedly. "Shall I wear my stilettos?"

"Why are you asking me? I have no fashion sense." Jennifer left the room and took the finally-repaired elevators to the first floor (since the stairs still tended to screw themselves over, after all). She skirted by a couple just outside the girls' dorm, but she doubled back in surprise when she saw who they were.

"Look, we're not going anywhere," Alexander was saying to Kriss.

"How can you tell?" Kriss demanded, looking at him petulantly.

"It had been the same thing before," Alexander replied. "Nothing's happening between us. Not since January, that is – it's all déjà-vu to me."

"Come on," Kriss snapped. "You can't take that as grounds for breakup. You should've just told me."

"It's a bit… I think we've just become too familiar, you know?"

"I've never heard you being this eloquent," Jennifer remarked snidely, causing the couple to turn around in surprise.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Alexander. Jennifer flashed a sunny smile at him.

"Trying to figure out how to dump Kriss? So much for British gentleman," she harrumphed. "Just get to the point. When we were going out, I could tell you wanted a breakup but were too polite to tell me, so I did the honours."

Kriss rolled her eyes. "I don't think you're helping this, Jennifer," she muttered.

"No, I'm not," agreed Jennifer. "I'm just going to leave now, with my parade of awkward turtles." She nodded. "See you on Monday."

"Wait, what?" Kriss demanded. "Monday? But…"

But Jennifer didn't hear her, since she was already well on her way towards the Staff Section.

* * *

Kitty and Anita frowned, watching the camera feeds. They had access to surveillance systems in the student sections of the campus, because Shinbun-kun had enlisted them as 'cub reporters'.

"Shame we can't get anything on the staff," Kitty lamented. "I suppose this will do."

"You know it," Anita agreed. "Why can't Mariam join our team, though?"

Kitty grimaced. "Look, your friend's nice and bubbly and all that, but she_ needs_ to learn how to spell."

"You sound like Mr. Allen in GrammarBootCamp mode."

"Well, that sounds nicer than 'Grammar Nazi', I suppose," Kitty sighed, turning back to the chart. "Looks like Kriss and Alexander are well on their way to the breakup arrow."

"And Jennifer's going to the Staff Section because…?" Anita frowned.

"Well, duh. Workbitch." Kitty snickered. "Who else is next? Megan and Charlie?"

"Looks likely to happen," Anita agreed. The two girls settled back, watching the screens.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jennifer entered the Staff Section to find a crowd gathered around the remains of a swordfish. "Isn't that Seychelles's swordfish?" Jennifer asked, trying to suppress the bile that rose in her throat at the mere mention of Seychelles.

"Yeah, she's disappeared," SatW America said, gesturing to Francis. The Frenchman was looking particularly distraught.

"First Nataliya, now Seychelles. Do we know where she went?" Francis asked as he frantically looked for evidence on the swordfish.

"There were no tracking devices on her," Arthur replied, appearing with Point Man Arthur. Both of them looked rather dishevelled.

"Didn't work?" Mr. Allen asked, glaring at Jennifer as the fangirl sidled by, flashing her pass. "We had hopes on those two."

"That could be it. Since everyone anticipated it, it didn't work," Arthur replied, sending an apologetic look at Point Man Arthur. "Apologies about your arse, man."

"You didn't apologise to me," SatW England snapped, still looking uncomfortable. Jennifer inwardly squealed as she passed him by to meet with Workbitch, who was hovering at the end of the hallway.

"What's going on?" Jennifer asked the secretary as they left the group.

"Trying to resolve the plothole," Workbitch replied, kissing her forehead. Mr. Allen watched them leave, a disgusted expression on his face.

"I still can't believe he'd stoop to that level; he can't be that desperate," the Course Coordinator sighed.

"You're one to talk; you impregnated a Mary Sue," Arthur retorted before slinging an arm around SatW England. "And I'm not apologising to you because what's the use of an apology if I'm just going to repeat what I did?"

"You wouldn't!" squeaked SatW England, turning bright red. "Not in public, you twat!"

"Of course not, I'm not a Frog," Arthur replied, glaring at Francis. "Speaking of which, we're now moving down the list. Francis, you're with Marianne tonight."

"Oho, fitting," Marianne chuckled darkly, resting a hand on Francis's arm.

"I'm sure we can get in another possible couple," Kiku pointed out. "Sebastian, you're with Heracles."

"As you wish," sighed the demonic butler. "I'm just one hell of a –"

"We _know_," Ludwig interrupted tersely, arriving on the scene with Chibitalia trailing behind, panting. "Mafia Lovino disappeared."

"And Chibi Romano! Mio fratello!" added Chibitalia, looking on the verge of tears. "We have to hurry up!"

"We can't do anything with anyone underage, so the list excludes Afuganisu-tan and her friends. But Meriken's on the list, along with her colleagues Britain and Russia." Arthur held up his list. "John Bull and Uncle Sam opted out of the process, and we're not about to force anyone into this. I'm trying to pair people off based on their likely compatibility with each other…" he trailed off. "Eames, you don't mind spending the night with Alfred, right? Our first choice for you would have been Francis, but he's a little busy."

"Course I don't mind," Eames replied slyly, while Alfred looked betrayed.

"I thought I was going to go with Meriken, Artie!"

"Come off it, you git; you're not getting _married_ to him," Arthur snapped. "All I want you to do is to resolve some unresolved sexual tension. You don't even have to sleep with him. Just a snog should do."

"But chances are, if there is any UST between you two, you'd _want_ to go beyond that," Kiku pointed out.

Alfred pouted, but he left with Eames all the same.

Ludwig watched him go, and then looked at Chibitalia. "I hope we didn't scar you for life," he remarked quietly. The little Italian boy shrugged.

"I already figured it out," he said innocently. "You know how fangirls are."

There was a pregnant pause. And then Ludwig growled.

"I'm going to _kill _those fangirls."


	39. Best Valentine's Day Ever

**Notes:** For reference, I used _To Rule the Waves_, my AP Euro textbook, and Sir Hugh Cortazzi's biography of Hugh Fraser to write the Canon 101 class. I would have liked to use something by Ian Nish, but I can't get my hands on any of his works. It's a shame, since he did a lot of research on the topic they discuss today in Canon 101.

* * *

**Part XIV**

By the time Valentine's Day came around, Kitty and Anita had made considerable edits to their chart. Megan gained a few more wavy arrows, Kriss and Alexander lost their arrow, and Mike Hawk and Mars McMillan gained an arrow between themselves.

"Congratulations!" Anita giggled as the two awkwardly entered the cafeteria on Valentine's Day. The entire school had been bedecked in red, white, pink, and purple, with lurid pink flowers and confetti flying everywhere. Aloisio Guerra had been dressed in a golden Cupid outfit for the occasion; he flew around singing off-key love songs at the top of his voice. Ironically, several couples had been cockblocked because of that.

Kriss sat with Merka and Lucia, dusting confetti off her éclair and glaring at Alexander at the Europe table. Jennifer smugly sipped her Earl Grey, holding out her pinky for leverage.

"Oh look, Taylor's hitting on Alexander," Hotaru snickered as she took the seat next to Jennifer. "That was quick!"

Jennifer grinned. "I know, right? I mean, Alexander broke up with Kriss yesterday."

"That's a bit of a downer," remarked Laisai Delavie as she walked past. "Hey, Rinaldia, do you have today's Canon 101 essay?" she yelled. They had taken a break from the morning physical training for Valentine's Day, but next week Ludwig expected them to be able to do a hundred push-ups. Jennifer still could barely get to fifty.

Quickly making sure her glasses hadn't broken from Rinaldia yelling back at the sorceress, Jennifer turned her attention back to her own Canon 101 essay. They were covering (a couple weeks late of the actual date) the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902 in Canon 101, and Kiku had invited Arthur and Mr. Hugh to speak. Jennifer wasn't quite sure why Mr. Hugh had been invited. Apparently he had first shown up in the Anglo-Japanese Alliance arcs, but no one cared until he got into the anime.

Did she look like she cared about Asakiku? Even if her friend Kriss liked it, Jennifer was still a USUK shipper to the core. And shippers went down with their ships.

When the students entered the Canon 101 classroom that Kiku presided over, the first thing they noticed was that Arthur _was_ sitting there at one of the desks, talking to Kiku and Mr. Hugh. The Course Coordinator was in a blue uniform with golden epaulets; Eraser was guarding him from a drooling Charlie Tenterden.

Once all of the students had entered, Kiku looked up and walked to the whiteboard, pulling down a world map.

"Today we are going to talk about the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902. Please refrain from expressing displeasure or pleasure with this topic of discussion. Before we commence, I would like to request that the doors be closed. Will you close the doors for us, Miss Breigher?

Merka closed the doors and took her seat again with a cluster of die-hard USUK fangirls. Jennifer sat with her; they took out paper and pen intending to pass notes during the lecture.

"First off, I will collect your essays on the chapter you had to read," Kiku continued. "Pass up the essays, please."

The students handed in their essays, sending each other nervous looks. In the front seat, Kriss, Roksana Abdullah, and Akiko Arihima were practically bouncing in their seats.

"Arigatou," Kiku said as he took the stacks of essays. "Shall we begin?"

"Let's," Arthur drawled. He got up and pointed to the map. "Here's Britain, and there's Japan."

"Notice, we're separated by Europe and Asia," Kiku added.

"And we're both Island Empires," agreed Arthur. "At this time the Royal Navy was the best in the world."

"Something that we have been notified of every history class," whispered Jennifer. Arthur glared at her.

"Quiet, Miss Chang," snapped Mr. Hugh. "Just because you're sleeping with my secretary doesn't mean you can insubordinate the rest of the Staff."

That revelation caused Kitty and Anita to high-five. Jennifer turned bright red. Merka cackled.

"So, that's what you've been hiding, eh?" Merka teased, good-naturedly elbowing Jennifer. The other fangirl swatted at her.

Arthur coughed and continued. "However, as intrepid as the British were, they had not been the first to interact with Japan. Japan had a long-standing trade relationship with the Dutch; the Dutch were the only foreigners allowed in Japan during its time of isolation."

"And I do believe the British were spending time in isolation around this time as well," said Kiku. "Foreign policy in Britain at this time, from what I hear, was neutrality and isolationism towards European events, while conquering parts of Asia and Africa for the Empire."

"British foreign policy at this time was to drift lazily downstream, occasionally putting out a boat-hook to avoid a collision," Arthur agreed. "We tried not to intervene in European affairs, but we weren't completely isolated. We had our Empire to maintain, after all." He paused. "However, Japan was taken out of isolation by the United States. Commodore Perry arrived in Japan with the Black Ships; at his insistence the Japanese opened the country to foreign trade in 1854."

"At first, the treaties I signed with the other Nations were extremely unfair, because they followed the same imperialistic line that led to foreign control of China and other parts of Asia," Kiku recalled. "We weren't going to stand for that, of course. In 1867, reformers overthrew an extremely conservative government. In 1868, they enacted the Meiji Restoration. During this time, we sought to combine Western science with Eastern values. All classes high and low were to unite in vigorously promoting my economy and welfare."

"Kiku sent people abroad," continued Arthur. "In the 1870s, he sent deputations to Europe and the United States to study technological and industrial developments. When Tokyo burned down in 1872, a European rebuilt the city. Western dress became the norm." He looked over at Mr. Hugh, as if expecting him to make any comments.

"We also started expanding our navy," Kiku noted. "In 1873, Arthur sent Lieutenant Commander Archibald Douglas to my house with a naval mission. By 1882, the majority of my battleships were British – in fact, the majority of my navy was British. The uniforms, signals, and band tunes were all copies of the Royal Navy's."

"You even imported my bricks for your naval academy," Arthur chuckled.

Kiku looked mildly sheepish, but he continued. "In fact, Admiral Togo once said, 'the English navy is very great. Study it. See all you can. Learn all you can. All other navies are negligible beside it'. Through our shared passions for Sea Power, Arthur and I grew close."

"We had a pretty good teacher-student relationship there," Arthur agreed.

"You taught me pretty much everything you knew." Kiku smiled slightly. "In 1894, I defeated the Chinese navy in the Sino-Japanese War and gained control over Korea."

"Noooooo!" Grace whined. Kiku stared at her for a few moments before carrying on.

"That year the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Navigation and Commerce was signed. Mr. Hugh, you contributed to that, didn't you?" There were some shocked looks from the students.

"I thought he negotiated the Alliance," Roksana said, frowning.

"Depends on how you look at it," replied the Course Coordinator. "If you really wanted to know, the person who negotiated the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Navigation and Commerce from the British side _was_ a man named Hugh Fraser. He died a month before the treaty was signed."

"So he didn't get to sign it? Bummer," Kriss said.

"Yes, it was a pity," Mr. Hugh mumbled. In a louder voice, he continued. "The Treaty of Navigation and Commerce ended the previous unequal treaty signed between Britain and Japan in 1858. Already, Japan's bids for equal footing with the West were starting to be heard. For example, Mexico was one of the first to sign an equal treaty with Japan. America and Germany accepted Japanese terms in their treaties. However, Britain's treaty in 1894 was a breakthrough in diplomacy. Our treaty ended extraterritoriality for Britons living in Japan – that means that Britons there would be subject to Japanese law and courts, should they commit a crime. This treaty was an important step towards the Alliance of 1902."

"Yes, the Alliance," agreed Arthur. "The Alliance came on the heels of Kiku's victory in China, because the possibility of an alliance with Russia was actually rather slim to none. In fact, Mr. Hugh had noted prior to his death that the –"

"The Japanese do not seem to have a friend anywhere," Mr. Hugh interrupted, "unless it is Russia, and their sympathy with Russia rests absolutely on fear, that is to say, principally on momentary panic."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Hugh," Arthur finished. "So, compare that to how everything played out in the anime."

"I still delivered the news that Kiku's boss was making advances towards Ivan's boss," Mr. Hugh noted. "Not that that actually happened, unless you count the Tsarevitch's visit to Japan in 1891. He got injured, I think."

"Serves him right," huffed Arthur. "It was not the threat of a Russo-Japanese alliance, but rather the threat of Russian expansion that led to our alliance. Ivan was pushing eastward, supporting anti-Japanese groups in Korea. In response, Kiku and I signed our alliance on 30 January, 1902. This naval alliance, promising aid to each country only if they were entangled in a war with more than one other nation, marked the beginning of a long friendship. I gave Kiku vital information for him to win the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, and Kiku allied with me in World War One partly because of our alliance."

"Yes, part of the reason why Japan didn't snap and go on a murdering rampage after World War One was because of the naval alliance with Britain," Mr. Hugh agreed, shrugging. "In 1921, however, Canada and America pressured Britain to let the Anglo-Japanese Alliance terminate, hoping that Japan would be muzzled in his thirst for power with the Nine-Power Treaty."

"Bad idea," Kiku sighed. "That treaty made me feel isolated and vulnerable. My dark side came out."

"And the rest is history," finished Arthur.

* * *

"Best. Valentine's Day. Ever," Kriss gushed at lunch, still bouncing happily in her seat. Earlier, she had been nosebleeding worse than Sister Japan with a yaoi doujinshi.

"They _really_ covered that topic," Jennifer noted neutrally, watching Kriss tuck into her savoury crêpe with gusto. "Like… I didn't know anything about the Alliance."

"You deprived child," Kriss remarked good-naturedly, looking up from her crêpe with a grin. "I'm going to go do my Canon 101 homework now." Kiku had assigned an essay on how the Anglo-Japanese Alliance shaped foreign relations in Europe prior to World War One. The other Asakiku fangirls were already working on it.

Merka laughed, watching Kriss take out a piece of paper and starting to write. "You know your handwriting's like a boy's, right? Illegible," she teased. Kriss rolled her eyes.

"Well, boo-hoo," Kriss replied, still writing like there was no tomorrow.

"That makes me wonder when they're going to cover the Special Relationship," Merka said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's a bit hard to talk about the Allies in World War Two without talking about Churchill and Roosevelt. After all, Churchill lived in the White House for months."

"And he walked about the White House naked after taking long baths," Karin chipped in, dropping by with her own crêpe. "I bet Arthur was mortified."

"Alfred probably got a kick out of that," snickered Jennifer. "I'm telling you, Winston Churchill is such a USUK lovechild."

"Technically, he's UKUS," Merka pointed out. "His dad was British; his mum was American."

"Yeah, Lord Randolph Churchill and Jeanette Jerome," Karin agreed. "Did you know he got honorary American citizenship?"

"Well, why not, when he coined the term 'Special Relationship'?" Merka wondered.

Karin grinned. "Have you ever read Churchill's books? There was this one book where he described the American Civil War in great detail. I don't even think most _Americans_ know about the Battle of Seven Pines or any of those other minor battles. And did you know that America and Britain nearly went to war over the boundary between British Guiana and Venezuela?"

"Pff, they did?" giggled Merka. "I heard they argued over seal fishing. Well, whatever it was, their relations were pretty bad after the Civil War."

"No, really. America sued Britain for aiding the South during the Civil War. I read about it on Wikipedia."

The two fangirls nodded solemnly. "Wikipedia God knows all."

* * *

When Karin finally detached herself from a heated discussion about the Alabama Claims with Merka, she returned to the Nerd Table grinning her head off. That grin quickly faded when she saw Carolina and Franklin sitting on opposite sides of the table trying to avoid each others' gaze.

"What did I miss?" she demanded, taking a seat next to Alice Wang.

"Carolina kissed Franklin," reported a slightly sullen-looking Tori Troutman. "And then she got hurt because he didn't kiss back, so now we all think he's gay and –"

"I'm not!" Franklin protested, turning bright red. Carolina determinedly kept her eyes focused on her crêpe.

"Oh, keep dreaming," snickered Taylor Drews-Garcia as he walked past with Alexander in tow. "In fact, dream a little bigger, _darling_."

"_Someone_ bumped into Eames today," remarked Tori. "Anyways, Carolina, there's always more fishes with glasses in the sea."

Karin snickered. "It's funny, how you'd least expect drama from our table… and yet…" She grinned, tucking into her crêpe. "I was talking to Merka Breigher."

"The one with a crush on Kriss Kross?" asked Tori.

"Well, yeah, how many other Merka Breighers do we know? She knows a lot about the Alabama Claims, though." Karin looked over at the South American table; several guys were sitting over there, including Charlie Tenterden. Megan (one of the few girls at the table) sat next to him with an arm around Andrew Ho, as usual. "The British diplomat who helped the negotiation process was a bloke called Charles Abbott."

"So?" Tori asked, wondering why Karin was watching Charlie Tenterden provocatively lick his fork.

"He was the third Baron Tenterden." Karin grinned at the dumbstruck expression on Tori's face. "And you know what else? He was fags with that Hugh Fraser we talked about in Canon 101 today."

"Fags?" Tori nearly spat out her drink. "Did I hear you correctly?"

"Well, it explains a lot about Charlie, doesn't it?" Karin snickered. "Oh, wait until Kitty and Anita hear."

"What were we supposed to hear?" Anita had popped out of nowhere, her best friend Mariam a little ways behind her.

"Penguins, Anita, penguins!" Anita's cheerful sidekick exclaimed. "You know what else they should put in here? Laser tag! And paintball, with pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows –"

"Ignore her; she's had too much sugar," Anita said calmly, handing her friend a pilfered lollipop. "Anyways, what were we supposed to hear?"

"That Charlie Tenterden was Mr. Hugh's fag," Tori replied, still snickering.

"Well, historically, you know," Karin chipped in, but Anita's eyes were already glinting evilly. "Yeah."

"This," whispered Anita with an evil grin, "is the best Valentine's Day ever." She was already jotting down the new information, almost exuding the same purple aura as Ivan when he said 'kolkolkol'. Karin and Tori looked at each other worriedly as the diminutive Asian girl skipped off, followed by her sugar-high friend.

"I wonder how long it'll take for _that_ to get up on the chart," Tori murmured.

* * *

Arthur looked at the list. It was already starting to decrease in length, and still they hadn't found the couple that would end all the crossover mayhem. Staff members were still disappearing – Chibinihon had vanished that morning with Hong Kong.

"How was it?" he asked SatW England as the other entered the room, combing his hair and looking mildly put off.

"Awful. That frog… I have no idea how you put up with him."

"I don't," Arthur replied, kissing the other Englishman's cheek. "I'm scheduled to have tea with Meriken."

"Good luck with that." SatW England went to open the door for Kiku, who looked slightly panicked.

"Pairing Tino with SatW Finland was probably a very bad idea. Berwald will kill us," the Japanese hissed as he tried to compose himself. Far off, screams and thuds resounded. "Well, after he spends some time with SatW Sweden, which means that Åland will kill us."

"Why don't we pair Berwald with Åland, then?" Arthur wondered nonchalantly. Kiku sighed, putting up his usual façade of calm.

"We can try," he said after a moment.

Arthur looked at his watch. "Oh, teatime," he said abruptly. "Kiku, you and SatW England are having tea without me, I'm afraid. I've got to meet Meriken."

SatW England consulted the list. "If you and Meriken don't solve the plothole, go talk to Hermione or Ariadne afterwards," he suggested. "Maybe Sister Japan, too, if you have time… since I think her brother's too asexual for these sorts of things."

"That's not true," Kiku pointed out. "Alfred was with him last night."

"Alfred also said nothing happened," Arthur replied. "Has he met your sister yet, SatW England?"

"I don't think so. He has met our France, though. I think she scared him."

"The French scare everyone," Arthur harrumphed. "I'll be going now." He kissed SatW England on the other cheek this time.

"We wish you luck," Kiku said cheerily, waving him off.

Arthur walked down the hallway, thinking about purple elephants so that he could get to the meeting place on time. But Meriken was already there, her pale complexion absolutely flawless and her long strawberry-blonde hair tied up in a ponytail.

"Whassup, Artie?" she asked as Arthur paused a few steps before her, taking her hand and kissing it like a true gentleman. "I was kinda surprised that you wanted to have tea with me, since I usually drink lemonade."

"Interesting," Arthur replied tonelessly, letting the American girl take his arm. "What else do you usually do, then?"

"I usually lounge around in a chair, watching superhero movies… pretending to be Wonder Woman… oh, yeah, and hunting down that stupid Terrorist Cat! Oh my god, I hate him!"

Arthur groaned internally. This might take a while. "You seem to share the same interests as Alfred."

"Oh yeah, we're really good friends. He lets me borrow his comic books, which is cool, since SatW America doesn't like sharing. And you know Abigail Jones? She's really nice, too. I just don't get Sister America sometimes. She's always obsessed with boys kissing!"

"You American personifications get along pretty well, I guess," Arthur chuckled. "I haven't really met your Britain, but I have spent time with Sister England."

"She makes really nice chocolate," agreed Meriken. "Not as good as Vash's or Ludwig's, but good enough for me to buy all of them!"

Arthur suppressed the urge to mourn the loss of Cadbury. "Interesting," he said after a moment, but Meriken wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

"TERRORIST CAT!" she hissed, pointing dramatically at the turbaned cat perched on Sebastian Michaelis's shoulder. The demonic butler looked up in mild surprise, just in time to see Terrorist Cat lunge towards Meriken.

"Meriken!" Arthur exclaimed as the American girl started attacking the cat with fervour, a mad glint in her eyes as she grappled with the turbaned feline. "Meriken, calm down, calm down!"

"DIE, TERRORIST CAT, DIE!" screamed the blonde, even as Sebastian dove into the fray and pulled cat and Nation apart. "YOU BETTER NOT HARM ANY MORE OF MY PEOPLE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"A bitch is a female _dog_," Arthur pointed out bluntly. "You're not too badly injured, are you?"

"Fine," she huffed, dusting off her red stripe schoolgirl skirt. "Let's go have tea."

* * *

After quickly eating dinner (and repeatedly dodging flying meringues and escargot), Kriss found herself taking refuge in the library. The FrUK versus FrUS food fight, last time she saw, was nearing table-flipping proportions.

Jennifer hadn't even shown up to dinner, and since Mr. Hugh had dragged the cat out of the bag, everyone knew she was closeted in the Staff Section doing who-knows-what with Workbitch. Kriss felt a painful surge of jealousy.

The pain seemed to intensify when Alexander entered the library and walked past her as if she was a bookshelf. Kriss bit her lower lip and tried to concentrate on the crossover Mary Sue packet, but her brain didn't seem to want to function today. Blinking away tears, Kriss slammed shut her copy of the_ Fellowship of the Ring_.

"Happy Single Awareness Day," Merka joked as she took a seat next to the Asakiku fangirl. "You don't seem too happy. I swear you're an emotional teeter-totter."

"Shut up," Kriss snapped, blushing. Merka sighed, rummaging around in her pockets and coming up with a crinkled card.

"For you," she said bashfully, handing the card to Kriss. The other girl opened it.

"That's cute," she noted, pointing to the picture of Arthur and Kiku drawn on the inside.

"I tried," Merka replied, shrugging. "Can't draw Kiku to save my life. And you know I like USUK more, so…"

"I appreciate it," Kriss said, smiling as she closed the card. "I… actually have a card for you, too."

"For me?" squealed Merka, giggling. Kriss nodded, pulling out a card from her backpack and handing it to the USUK fangirl. Merka beamed as she took it.

"My art sucks compared to yours," Kriss sighed, blushing. "I mean, I rushed it this afternoon…"

But Merka didn't seem to care. "You drew USUK for me!" she exclaimed happily, opening the card and eagerly reading the message inside. "Oh…"

"I understand if you… don't feel that way…" mumbled Kriss, looking away.

Merka laughed. "Oh my god, Kriss! Are you stupid or something? Of course I do!" And before the Asakiku fangirl knew what hit her, the USUK fangirl was hugging her tightly. "I thought you didn't, so…"

"Well… I thought _you_ didn't," Kriss replied, her voice muffled by Merka's shoulder.

"It's funny, since everyone else figured it out before us," Merka sighed when they broke apart from the hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Same here," Kriss mumbled. "So… what do you want to do about this?"

Merka grew very pink in the face. "A-ah, I'm not too sure how to ask someone out," she said sheepishly, running her hand nervously though her dark hair.

Kriss snorted. "I'm sure it's simpler than you think," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah…" Merka laughed weakly. "So… Kriss, will you be my girlfriend?"

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Kriss asked, back to deadpan snarker. "And yes, I will be."

"Yay!" Merka exclaimed, earning herself a glare from Monaco. The USUK fangirl hugged the Asakiku fangirl once more, grinning against Kriss's shoulder.

Kriss didn't mind. It was the best Valentine's Day ever, after all.

* * *

**Notes:** To be perfectly clear (and dramatically ironic), I am not jesting about Hugh Fraser and Charles Abbott being fags. However, the context for the term 'fag' was completely different during the Victorian era. Fag, in the British private school system, was used to denote a lowerclassman who performs menial tasks for upperclassmen. Hugh and Charlie went to Eton together, and their relationship must have been positive in general because Charlie was the one who assigned Hugh to Japan, thinking that he'd like Japan. He was right.

Shows just how much of a nerd I am, researching little-known British diplomats.


	40. A Sue By Any Other Name

**Notes:** Here comes the beginning of some current events coverage. Apologies in advance to those who have been affected by the events covered.

* * *

**Part XV**

"He's okay now, isn't he?" Afuganisu-tan asked Sadiq Adnan worriedly, pointing to Egypt. The quiet Middle Eastern Nation had been admitted into the hospital wing in late January, having come down with a horrid case of the stomach flu.

"I don't know," Sadiq admitted, looking at Egypt's currently-slumbering form. "He had a fever, but the worst of it was over on Saturday."

"I heard news," pitched in Pakisu-tan, "that there are more revolutions in our area. In fact, one started in Libya today."

"Francis was talking about it, yes," Sadiq said, grimacing slightly. "I just hope I don't get caught up in it. Look at what the revolution did to Egypt. Florance says he's getting better, though. Maybe he'll be out of the hospital wing by the end of the week."

He didn't mention to the little girls that Egypt was talking now, that whenever he was awake he was talking about freedom and equality, occasionally wincing in pain. The pain had started in early February, when the revolution had turned violent. The fever began last week, and broke on the eleventh. Through it all, Egypt was wild-eyed and eager for change; his demeanour had changed completely.

Sadiq wasn't sure whether or not to be worried for his own country. The Turk frowned as he escorted Afuganisu-tan and Pakisu-tan out of the hospital wing; at the door he turned back to watch Egypt's slumbering form.

"He'll be fine, right?" Afuganisu-tan asked. "Right, Turkey?"

"I hope so, Afugan," Sadiq replied.

They walked past a gaggle of American personifications standing a little ways outside the Staff Section. Meriken and Alfred were deep in conversation about the revolution in Libya; SatW America and his sister stood with Abigail and Uncle Sam, worried expressions on their faces.

"Going to go save the day, are we?" Sadiq asked as he passed by Alfred.

"I don't know. My boss doesn't want to act right now," Alfred replied. "Francis and Arthur are already discussing helping the Libyan rebels."

"Well, they have more stakes in the area," Sadiq pointed out. "You remember Arthur's vigil?"

Alfred did remember Arthur's vigil. Despite his obligations to his history class, the thick-browed Nation had kept vigil over Egypt's bedside in the Hospital Wing the first night the revolution turned sour. That had been in the week Mr. Allen and the Bled Pinjas had gone to the parallel world; the Staff had kept things relatively hush-hush.

That didn't stop Shinbun-kun from running articles on the turmoil in the Middle East on the front page of the _Bled Chronicles_. The older students had been required to keep tabs on the events for their Current Events class.

"Well, my current situation makes me incapable of acting," Alfred replied. "At least, not on the scale that I did before."

"We still have troops in Iran and Afghanistan," Meriken cut in. "Can't we divert them?"

"No, we promised we'd pull them out, and a hero always keeps his promises!" Alfred exclaimed.

Sadiq nodded, ushering his two young charges ahead into the Staff Section. Afuganisu-tan kept on tripping over her scarf and her feet. After a moment, the masked Turk got fed up and picked her up.

"Afu!" squeaked Afuganisu-tan, shocked.

"You're so clumsy!" groaned Sadiq. "How am I going to deal with you?" He mentally cursed Heracles for suggesting that he babysit the two Nations that day. That damned Greek with his stupid cold…

"Afu…" Afuganisu-tan pouted. Pakisu-tan laughed, grabbing Sadiq's hand.

"Come on, come on, let's go play Tayariban!" the girl insisted. Sadiq groaned again.

"You know those bloody Westerners hate it when you two play that game," he remarked.

"So? It's better than Northern Alliance!" Pakisu-tan pouted.

Sadiq resisted the urge to groan a third time. "Fine, fine, we'll play Tayariban. But if Alfred comes charging in demanding that we break it up and accusing me of killing Armenians, it's all your fault."

The three of them went off to find the Tayariban play set.

* * *

Kitty and Anita had made an important change to their chart. Gone was the double arrow between Merka and Lucia; it had been moved between Merka and Kriss. People forked over belongings, and all eyes turned to Taylor.

"Oh my god, just choose someone already," Scylla complained to Taylor at breakfast on Thursday morning. The Californian boy shrugged, running a hand through his slightly-long hair.

"Why would you care?" he asked flippantly, snaking a devious arm around Alexander nonetheless. The British boy protested.

"Alexander, give it up. You know you like it," teased Kitty, nudging Scylla. "You know, I've set up a pool. Who's gonna become Taylor's new boyfriend – Alexander, the cute little Brit, or Franklin, the intelligent and sensitive… nerd?"

"That is _so_ mean," huffed Taylor. "Do I _have_ to choose?"

"It would help us resolve the drama, wouldn't it?" Kitty asked, grinning toothily. "Any takers?"

"A USUK doujin for Taylor/Alexander," Arianna Borrel replied.

"A pink unicorn plushie for Taylor/Franklin," Hotaru added sleepily as she passed by.

"Do they always bet like this?" Gabriella Renaldo Taveres asked at the Europe table, gesturing to the betting spree at the South America table. People from other tables were contributing to the betting pool. "Like, as soon as a couple goes up there's a betting pool about them?"

"Pretty much, yeah," replied Vesper Santos. "Right, Cri?"

Cristiana Moretti nodded. "Yup, it all began in… like, November. I think. Well, Alfred and Arthur had an argument then because Ivan told Alfred that Arthur thought his dick was small… and Kitty took bets on the outcome. It's turned into a monster."

"Tell me about it," sighed Isabella Mitchell. She stood at odds with the other three because of her dislike for Spamano, but otherwise they seemed to get along well.

"But I would have liked to see the mayhem from that," Gabriella mused. There came a scream from far away. "Oh, I suppose that's Izzy Kzaen," she said. "She and Yuki-rin were plotting something the other day…"

"Well, that failed," Vesper pointed out. "Was it a trap for Sweden?"

"Maybe they got SatW Finland instead," snickered Cristiana.

"That would suck," Isabella sighed. "But wait, doesn't Yuki-rin want to get into Berwald's pants? And Izzy wants to see Berwald get into Tino's pants? Conflict of interest, I think."

"I don't think they care," said Gabriella, shrugging. "It's funny, though."

"You'll say that now, but when Spain comes along…" Cristiana chuckled, getting up. "I have to finish my Current Events homework." She grimaced. "See you later."

Later, when the first semester students were on their way to Current Events, they were waylaid by the staircase doubling in on itself. "I wish the Staff would hurry up and get these messed up staircases resolved," complained sierra akoti as they retraced their steps. The second semester students were already hurrying to Platonic Love class; apparently Pirate Arthur had been replaced by Policeman Arthur. The classes still weren't as brilliant as they had been before.

"Francis is doing the 'What's In a Name' lecture tomorrow," reported Shannon Price as the students headed down another corridor. "He's probably going to talk about the different translations of his name and – oh my god."

They had stumbled upon Jennifer and Workbitch just outside the Current Events classroom. "Oh, so that's how you French kiss," Merka said in a carrying whisper, causing several students to blush and giggle.

"Dude, shouldn't we give them privacy? Put the camera down!" hissed Taylor, but Kriss was already snapping pictures. "Kriss, put the camera down!" Taylor said in a louder voice, but that caused the guilty couple to break apart.

Jennifer muttered something unprintable; Workbitch shuffled his feet. Shinbun-kun took the opportunity to sidle in and ask Kriss for the photos. Mortified, Mr. Allen's secretary muttered something to Jennifer, who nodded and waved him away.

"So!" Shinbun-kun grinned weakly, trying to pretend that he didn't see his colleague snogging a student. "What's going on in Libya? What went on in Egypt? What happened to the journalists in Egypt when they tried to cover the events there? Pass up your homework and let's talk."

* * *

"The second semester ends in about six weeks," Mr. Allen told Arthur as they stood in front of the crossover plothole. "Who vanished now?"

"CIA Alfred and KGB Ivan," Arthur replied, his expression grave. "And we're down to Roderich/SatW Prussia, Gilbert/SatW Austria, Gilbert/Draco, Roderich/William T. Spears, and Roderich/Grell Sutcliff."

"Roderich seems to be popular," Mr. Allen remarked drily. "So, no success with Kiku and Sister Japan? Or Norway and SatW Norway?"

"The plothole, when deactivated, should disappear. Even if deactivated temporarily, it should vanish into a shimmering haze. The strawberry scent should be gone when our objectives are achieved." The Briton frowned. "Therefore, we still have some ways to go."

"It wasn't Francis and SatW Denmark or Berwald and SatW Finland. I was rather disappointed," admitted Mr. Allen. "And not just them – Alfred and Meriken was promising, too."

"Matthew and Mother Canada was another possible one. Matthew and SatW Canada looked promising, too," Arthur pointed out, sighing. "Well, we also have Elisabeta and SatW Austria to try out."

The two of them left the plothole and re-entered the Staff Section, passing by Elisabeta and SatW Austria.

"So, your fling with Gilbert didn't work out?" the Hungarian woman was saying quietly. "Not that it was much of a fling, though… I hope you got it on tape, though!"

"You know I did," SatW Austria snickered, his blond moustache quivering with amusement.

"Good, good. Now, here's our afternoon's plan… to catch Eames and that dark-haired Arthur in the act. I know some fangirls willing to pay through the nose for pictures of them."

"After that, we've got to get something on Draco and Harry, I know," agreed SatW Austria, clutching his camcorder possessively. "They're so elusive…"

"They have to teach this afternoon," reminded Elisabeta. "We'll catch them after their class."

Mr. Allen consulted his watch. "I have another appointment with Takara," he said abruptly, opening a portal. Arthur nodded, waving. "We'll discuss the results of today's pairings later."

"Yes," agreed Arthur. "I'm off to drink some tea and ask Antonio and Lovino about their experiences with SatW Denmark and Sister America, respectively."

"Good luck with that," Mr. Allen said as he stepped through the portal.

* * *

"Second trimester already," remarked Nurse Suzine, as Takara looked down at her starting-to-emerge belly. "Well, early in second trimester, but Mary Sue babies tend to develop quickly." Already, Takara wasn't vomiting in the mornings; she was starting to feel more comfortable with the entire situation.

A portal opened and Mr. Allen stepped through, clutching his head as if on the verge of a personality switch. "Ah, Mr. Allen," Nurse Suzine said cheerily as the Course Coordinator took a seat. "It is Mr. Allen, right?"

"Mr. Hugh," the Course Coordinator said, looking up. "It's Mr. Hugh_ now_."

"You've always been a confusing person," chuckled Nurse Suzine. "Okay, just a quick monthly checkup and ultrasound screening. Takara's pregnancy is advancing a little quicker than a normal pregnancy; she's starting her fourth month now but the child is already beginning to quicken. This is usually a surefire sign that the baby is a Mary Sue, because a normal child doesn't start moving until the fifth month. Another sign that we have a baby Sue is that Takara's baby bump is barely showing, despite the baby's rapid development."

"Can we determine the gender around this time?" Mr. Hugh asked cautiously, sitting up in his seat.

"Usually at the beginning of the fifth month, yes, but when we have a baby Sue on our hands, who knows?" Nurse Suzine replied. "Let's take an ultrasound and see, perhaps?"

Mr. Hugh felt ridiculously awkward as he watched the nurse smear some gel on Takara's abdomen. Smiling hesitantly, Nurse Suzine took the transducer and started moving it across the gelled areas. Immediately, pictures appeared on the screen; Mr. Hugh watched the foetus move, spellbound.

"Yup, definitely a baby Sue," Nurse Suzine hummed. "Already emitting Aura of Smooth, even in the womb. Otherwise, I think this pregnancy is progressing healthily. Mary Sue pregnancies tend to be that way."

"Is the child female or male?" Mr. Hugh wondered, still watching the foetus on the screen.

"Female. I don't see a penis," replied the nurse bluntly. "A-ah, look at her little fingers and toes…"

"Charming," Mr. Hugh replied, not quite sure whether he meant that or not.

"What are we going to name the child?" Takara wondered, her expression just as captivated by the sonogram (if not more).

"We're giving her up for adoption; why would we name her?" Mr. Hugh asked.

"I think," cut in Nurse Suzine, "that naming your child before one of our Agents adopts her is probably a better idea than letting them do the honours. Knowing those Agents, you'd be the father of a girl named Megatron."

Mr. Hugh grimaced. "Yeah, we'll name her, then."

"Still," said Nurse Suzine as she turned off the machine and helped Takara get rid of the gel, "an ultrasound isn't definitive of the baby's gender. For all we know, the baby in there is actually a Gary Stu. Nevertheless, feel free to come up with some names for the child… just please, for the love of Glaurung, don't give her a Mary Sue name."

"Like what?" asked Takara, looking bewildered.

Nurse Suzine pulled out a neatly-alphabetised list from a passing plothole. "Here, a list of common Mary Sue names," she said, handing the list to the couple. "They're not banned, per se, but using them makes Agents suspicious."

Takara went through the list, frowning. "So, it's a bad idea to name the child 'Adalora', 'Andenella', 'Arda', 'Averil', 'Celebrian', 'Célestine', 'Emerald', 'Ivorwen', 'Karina', 'Laura', or 'Linwe'?" she asked, frowning.

"Wait, since when was 'Laura' a Mary Sue name?" Mr. Hugh asked.

"Some of these names are pulled from Mary Sues in badfic," replied Nurse Suzine. "There was a Legendary Badfic called 'legolas by laura', where the main character was named Laura."

"All right, and I thought 'Celebrian' was the name of Elrond's wife," Mr. Hugh added, pointing to the offending name on the list.

"Another badfic called 'Celebrian' led us to put her name on the list," Nurse Suzine explained. She paused for a moment. "Oh, yes... before I forget, it's also a bad idea to give a child too many middle names. I know some cultures, like yours," a nod to Mr. Hugh, "traditionally insist on two middle names chosen by the godparents. And other fandoms have unique naming traditions – take _Lord of the Rings_, for example. Elves there usually have three names: the mother name, the father name, and the lore name. The father name is usually chosen by the father if the child is male or by the mother if the child is female, and it usually refers to the parents or the birth order. Therefore, it has no real significance. The mother name, on the other hand, is chosen based on the child's personality or appearance. It is more important than the Father name in that sense. Finally, the lore name is the name the child chooses for him or herself, and is often the name that goes down in history."

"But we're not planning to name our child after Elven customs," Mr. Hugh pointed out.

"I'm just saying," replied Nurse Suzine, "that long names are usually acceptable, but there's a line between a decent, tasteful name and a Mary Sue name. Anything past two middle names sets off alarm bells."

Takara was reading the name lists again. "We also can't name the child 'Mithril', 'Morannon', 'Pangaea', 'Raven', 'River', 'Sakura', 'Skye', 'Starr', or 'Starlight'," she reported.

"As a rule, don't go for anything that's a misspelled version of a common name, like 'Jennyfyre', 'Kaylay', 'Styphanye', 'Ryvenn', or 'Elysabethhe'," said Nurse Suzine. "Nothing unpronounceable, either, like 'Tyrwrn', 'Rneladst', or 'Egntha' –"

"Wait, wait, how did you pronounce the last one?" Mr. Hugh demanded, frowning.

"Yes, you see?" Nurse Suzine crowed. "If you have to offer a pronunciation guide with the name, don't use it."

"So Tèa's out of the question," Takara mused, looking doleful.

"Everyone would call her 'Tea'," Mr. Hugh pointed out. "Personally, I prefer the name 'Emma', or 'Anne'."

Nurse Suzine nodded. "Those seem safe enough. A quick question: neither of you claim Asian ancestry, am I correct?"

"I think I'm half-Japanese," Takara said, frowning. "Florance said so. I mean, my name is in that language..."

"Aha," said Nurse Suzine. "That's another common Mary Sue mistake – a character without Asian ancestry having an Asian name. Granted, there have been Europeans who live in Asia for so long that they end up with a Japanese or Chinese name –"

"Yes, I've heard of some. There was one Englishman who became a Japanese samurai," Mr. Hugh agreed.

"But naming a blonde and blue-eyed European 'Sakura Tomoe Matsuri Smith' makes no sense," Nurse Suzine concluded. "I'm not asking you two to give me a decision today, though. I'm just pointing out the pitfalls to avoid when naming someone. Select a name that's meaningful but not too outlandish. Don't select too many names. Make sure the name you select is pronounceable. Aside from that, I think you should be fine."

Mr. Hugh smiled. "Thank you for your counsel, Nurse Suzine. I would like to get the name chosen today, though, so that I don't have to worry about it too much."

"I can select her name," Takara replied defensively.

"I prefer to have some say in it," Mr. Hugh said shortly. "What names are you considering?"

Takara pursed her lips and absentmindedly patted her belly. "Victoria," she said after a moment. "Victoria, Joanne, Elizabeth, Kathleen. Yourself?"

"Emma, Anne, Violet, Catherine, Frances," Mr. Hugh replied. "And have you considered if the child was actually a boy?"

"Stephen, James, Aaron, John."

"Anthony, Edmund, Conan, Patrick."

Before Mr. Hugh left, they decided: Emma Victoria for a Mary Sue; Anthony James for a Gary Stu. When Mr. Hugh left, he wondered if he was starting to get attached to the kid.

He sincerely hoped that he wasn't.

* * *

"Multiple Crossovers, like the current situation here," instructed Hermione, "are even harder to write than normal two-fandom crossovers. Can anyone tell me why?"

Another day, another Crossover class. The students were buzzing with excitement – not about the class, but about the latest development in Kitty and Anita's chart. It had happened without warning – one paper airplane from Megan to Andrew at lunch, and the two were over.

The funny thing was that neither party seemed to care. Charlie, Andy, Taylor, Mike, and Mars had read the note over Andrew's shoulder and had laughed at his expense; Andrew had then written a reply on the plane telling Megan that everyone was reading the note over his shoulder. When Megan got the airplane back, she had snickered before writing "Hey everyone else! I love you all more than Andrew Ho!" on the plane and sending it back to her ex.

Several other people had lost some bets that day.

But back to the Crossover class. "Uh, you need to keep track of more fandoms?" Arianna asked.

"So that means more facts and stuff. And more names to not misspell," pitched in Anastasia Debby.

"More people to get right," Carolina Brown added.

"Exactly. It's already hard enough keeping track of two fandoms in a traditional crossover. A multiple crossover is worse. The more fandoms mixed in, the harder it becomes to write the fic." Hermione nodded. "Let's look at some examples, shall we? Harry, get the presentation up."

"Woah, is that actually electic?" Ron demanded, pointing to the laptop that Harry was using. Wizard Arthur turned on the projector with a flick of his wand.

"Ron, it's _electric_," Hermione hissed, sounding out the word slowly.

The presentation went up on the screen, to Ron's amazement. "Woah, look, shadow puppets!" the red-haired wizard exclaimed, making bunnies and ducks with his fingers. Draco groaned.

"For the love of Paracelsus, Weaselhead, we're supposed to be teaching."

"Ferret-face actually has a point," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "Ron, put your hands down."

"But Hermione!" Ron was obviously easily awed by Muggle technology. The students rolled their eyes.

"No 'buts', Ronald," growled the bushy-haired bookworm. "Hands down before I hex you."

Ron acquiesced, looking despondent as he gracelessly dropped into a seat. Hermione cleared her throat and continued.

"All right. Look at this first excerpt and tell me which fandoms are being mixed. Then tell me if the authors got the characters portrayed right. For homework you're going to go more in-depth, but for now just list any errors."

"All of them will have Hetalia for one of the fandoms," Wizard Arthur added. "The maximum is five fandoms, including Hetalia."

The first excerpt ran as thus:

"_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? I'm awesome, until the end of time," Gilbert Beilschmidt crooned to Susan Pevensie, who giggled and swatted at him._

"_You're so cute," she simpered, tossing her long black hair behind a shoulder. Gilbert laughed._

"_Yeah, that's because I'm awesome! Oh baby, I'm awesome!" They stood together on the deck of the Titanic, watching the world fall away before them. "Susie, Susie, my darling, I love you and myself so much!"_

Several students sniggered. "Narnia, Hetalia, Moulin Rouge, and Titanic," Sara Parker listed immediately.

"Gilbert was kinda in-character," added Laurel Martin thoughtfully.

"But I don't think he's the type to go for relationships," Loki Shadow Reave pointed out. "And he seems rather mismatched with Susan, who would probably act more mature."

"Susan wasn't even alive at the time of the Titanic," Franklin Livingston pointed out bluntly. Taylor had insisted that he sit next to him, causing several people to flash hearts at him during class. Needless to say, Franklin was blushing more furiously than an embarrassed tsundere. Wait...

"Next example," Hermione called, changing the slide.

"_How much for tonight, baby?" Sebastian purred, as Hermione sashayed her hips and walked towards the sexy demon, her high heels clicking against the tiled floor. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."_

"_Sparkling diamond," added Alfred huskily from the other side of the room. He stood up, walking towards the cinnamon-haired whore with a lewd grin on his lips. Hermione turned and smirked._

"_Boys, I can take both of you," she drawled._

"_Seems like a plan," Sebastian replied, winking at Alfred._

_Alfred moaned at the thought._

The_ real_ Hermione flushed a brilliant shade of crimson after reading that one. Ron looked slightly winded.

"You should act like that more often, Stranger," Draco noted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione shoved him.

"Oh, go shag an Acromantula, Malfoy," she snapped. "I would never act like that!"

"Yeah, she wouldn't!" Ron still looked rather winded. Hermione glared at him.

"Ron, my eyes are up _here_."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron mumbled, his cheeks clashing with his hair. Hermione resisted the urge to slam her head against the nearest hard surface.

Lydiacatfish raised her hand. "The fandoms crossed are Kuroshitsuji, Harry Potter, and Hetalia."

"There was a bit of Moulin Rouge in it as well," Megan pointed out. "Since Hermione's portrayed like a whore."

"Takes one to know one," Lucia mumbled. Megan cackled.

"Thank you, Luchie-poo; your input was greatly appreciated."

Eva Danielson frowned. "Alfred wasn't being very... Alfred," she noted. "I mean, he was kinda eloquent... and then he started acting like Francis."

"Sebastian... he seems a bit in character with the suaveness, and as a demon he wouldn't have any scruples about using prostitutes and having threesomes," Carolina Brown said thoughtfully, "but _Kuroshitsuji_ took place in the Victorian era, and Sebastian plays a very dignified role. So he wouldn't be cursing."

"Hermione's hair is described as cinnamon, which is actually auburn-coloured. Not brown," Taylor Drews-Garcia said. Several girls looked at each other with wide eyes.

"He knows his colours!" Megan exclaimed in mock shock.

"Proof that he's gay or at least metrosexual, but we're leaning towards the former," Kriss added slyly.

"Next example," Draco drawled.

_The totally epic journey of Legolas Greenleaf started at Hogwarts where he meets Hermione Granger, Arthur Kirkland, and Holly Short. Elf and elf were both really surprised when they saw each other! "Oh my gosh, this is so weird!" Holly said. "Yeah, I know right," Legolas exclaimed. "We totally need to go to the spa and get our nails done!"_

_And then Arthur and Hermione felt rather left out so they saw Edward Cullen and Hermione was like "Oh my god it's Cedric Diggory." Like, no way. But Edward was like seven thousand times hotter. And Arthur was like "Oh my god I know right!" But Edward was like too good for them so ha ha whatever lolz!_

"Whoa, what?" Wizard Arthur demanded.

"The writing style gets worse and worse as we go on," Harry complained.

"The entire _thing_ gets worse and worse as we go on," Hermione pointed out. "Which fandoms, then?"

"Harry Potter, Hetalia, Artemis Fowl, Lord of the Rings, and Twilight," Scylla listed.

"And the problems?" Wizard Arthur asked.

"Everyone uses Poland-speak," Kriss deadpanned. "Like, totally."

"Legolas wants to get his nails done," snickered Loki.

"Edward Cullen is in the story," Yuki-rin complained. "He is not seven thousand times hotter than Cedric Diggory."

"Nor is he too good for anyone," added Natashia Fernandez. "I mean, I think it's the exact opposite."

Carolina Brown sighed. "There are no paragraphs between each person's line, so everything's squished up and harder to read."

"I was hoping that someone would point that out," Wizard Arthur agreed. "That right there is one of the most common errors known to writers. _Please_ don't put everyone's lines in the same paragraph. It hurts the eyes and the brain." He paused. "Next example."

"_Wirr you have my babies" said Kiku Honda to Sebby because Sebby was totally hawt. "I wirr firr you with my rove because me rove you rong time." "Yes" says Sebby "But what about Eames" and he pointed to Eames who was kinda drunk but very happy so Kiku said yes and they had a hot threesome that was videotaped by Spock and sebby had a baby named destine hope who saves the world and ends up with Arthur because JGL is fucking hot the end_

"Once again, we have a paragraph problem," Carolina pointed out.

"The fandoms are Hetalia, Inception, and Kuroshitsuji," added Merka, "But there was a random Spock in there."

"Why would Spock tape a threesome?" wondered Shelby, frowning. "That's illogical."

"There was a very long sentence in there," Kitty added thoughtfully. "And they didn't refer to Sebastian by his full name; they didn't even capitalise 'Sebby' once."

"And there was a Mary Sue named destine hope," sierra akoti added. Jennifer still hadn't figured out how to pronounce a lowercase name. "We don't know how she saves the world and why the world needed saving in the first place."

"There was a bit of character confusion," Shannon Price pointed out. "Did destine hope get together with England or that Point Man bloke?"

"I think they're talking about Inception Arthur," Sabrina sighed, looking dreamy. "Joseph Gordon-Levitt..."

"Snap out of it," growled Wizard Arthur. "There are a few more problems."

"The male pregnancy," Sally said immediately. "I mean, even though Sebastian's a demon..."

"I think demons _spawn_," Loki pointed out, crossing her arms. "We didn't quite figure out how three people can have a baby."

"Well, obviously destine was the lovechild between Sebastian and Kiku," Emmanuella Escatara replied. "I mean, Kiku asked Sebastian if he would have his babies."

"If Sebastian didn't want to have children with Grell, why would he agree with Kiku?" demanded Neira Henrietta.

"The Engrish," Kriss cut in firmly. "The Engrish, it burns."

Wizard Arthur nodded. "Yes, good point. Using Engrish and verbal tics every two seconds tend to annoy readers. Yao doesn't say 'aru' after every word, and those extra tics distract readers. It's the same thing with Engrish and accents in general. Too much of them will detract from the story. There's a line between authenticity and distraction."

There was a pause before Draco coughed lightly. "Homework," he said. "We have another packet."

"It's on multiple crossovers," Hermione added, as Ron handed out the packets. "You must identify the fandoms, any Mary Sues, any grammar and spelling errors, any factual errors, and any character mangling."

"Basically do what we did this afternoon," said Harry, "only give us the examples and use complete sentences."

"Class dismissed," Wizard Arthur finished. "Next time, we're having a special class dedicated specifically to crossovers between our two fandoms. It would help if you knew Harry's story before we begin."

On that note, the students piled out of the classroom.

* * *

**Notes:** Any PPC Boarders willing to adopt Mr. Hugh's baby? If not, I'll default to my Agents.


	41. Arnold Ate A Chicken Drumstick

**Notes:** For Elisabeta's Geography tricks, I used my seventh grade history teacher's tricks. That's why Elisa might seem a little too American at times. Still, these tricks help, I think. If you really want to use them, take a map of Europe and refer to it as you go along. I may upload my version of the map with the tricks drawn on them some other day.

Also, check Hugh's livejournal (my LJ roleplay account for him; I'll probably use it for IAHF-related stuff from now on) for the Multiple Crossover assignment, if you want to actually do it. I had a request to make the assignment, and I couldn't resist it. I might have lost a few brain cells in the process, though.

Here is the link – remove the spaces. http : / / hugh-fraser. livejournal . com / 5161 . html

* * *

**Part XVI**

"We start here at the Iberian Peninsula. Portugal is shaped like a door; another name for door is 'port'. Everyone knows what Spain looks like, so moving on. France is shaped like a Carl's Jr. Star, which means French fries. Next to France over here we have Germany, in the shape of a G. If you want, you can think of Pac-Man, who is a germ." Elisabeta Héderváry was teaching Geography once more, and it seemed as if only Dorothy Brown and the other members of the second semester Nerd Group were paying attention to her. "Then there's Poland, which is the flag on the flagpole and looks like a sideways P that way. Next to Poland is the jester."

"Jester?" echoed Alice Wang.

"Yes, see, it's Quasimodo from the _Hunchback of Notre Dame_. His job is to ring the bells, so we have B, E, L, and L. The big one is Belarus – see, Quasimodo rings the bells, and that's his profile. Belarus. Next there's Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, and they're all in alphabetical order like that, going down. Everyone knows over here is Russia." She gestured to the giant blank space next to the Baltics and Belarus. "Moving on. Do you see the upside down crane?"

"What?" echoed the students; some of them were half-asleep. Elisabeta pointed to Ukraine.

"This is the upside-down crane, so you can think of Ukraine," she said. "Ukraine extends into the black sea, which looks like a turkey. Turkey is the platter for the turkey-shaped Black Sea."

"Oh, I see what you did there!" giggled Yuri Yamaguchi.

"Of course," replied Elisabeta. "Moving on. Do you see the fish? That's Romania, because the fish is roaming through the Black Sea. Now, this poor fish has mold on its fin, so right next to Romania is Moldova. Underneath the roaming fish is Bulgaria, which is shaped like a bull – see those horns? It is on top of Greece and next to Macedonia, shaped like a Marshmallow. Albania is the guy eating the marshmallow – see, he's eating _all_ of the marshmallow."

"You don't have a trick for remembering Greece?" Emma Markowska demanded, looking disappointed.

"No. Just remember it's not on the Italian peninsula." Elisabeta looked at the map. "Now here is Kosovo, Serbia, and Montenegro. They're a bit too small for me to develop tricks for, but these three do make a Y for former Yugoslavia. Now, see the arrowhead? Back in the old days, if you had an arrowhead, you were the boss – Bosnia. It is next to a C, for Croatia."

The students continued to watch Elisabeta; some people (namely, the Nerds) were taking notes.

"Let's skip away from the Balkans for a bit to deal with this boot over here. This is Italy, in case you didn't know. The Italians design a lot of boots and Feliciano's Marukaite Chikyuu mentions toasting with boots. If you cannot recognise Italy by the end of this class, I will ask the Vargas brothers to strangle you with Angel Hair pasta."

"Sounds like a slow and painful death," remarked Dana snarkily. Elisabeta raised her frying pan threateningly.

"Quiet until I'm done," the Hungarian woman snapped. "Now, back to continental Europe. Here in the middle we have a four leaf clover. When you find a four-leaf clover, it means you're lucky and you might get cash. C, A, S, H. The C stands for Czech Republic, and the S stands for Slovakia. Down here we have a chicken drumstick – that's Austria. Everyone knows Arnold Schwarzenegger, right?"

"He was the governator of California – no, wait, he was the governor," Ru Tsuna pointed out. Several people snickered.

"Yes, and he also comes from Austria," Elisabeta started mimicking the Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. "You see, Arnold ate a chicken drumstick, and Arnold came from Austria. Not to be confused with Australia, because if you do confuse Austria with Australia, Arnold will angrily play the piano at you."

If people had been sleeping before, they were awake now and laughing at Elisabeta's impersonation.

"Now, why did Arnold eat the chicken drumstick? Because he was hungry!" With a flourish, Elisabeta pointed to her own country. "Arnold ate a chicken drumstick; Arnold came from Austria. Arnold ate a chicken drumstick because he was _hungry_. Now mind you, Arnold ate the chicken drumstick _slowly_, so he didn't choke and die on a bone." She pointed to Slovenia.

"How do you remember where Slovakia and Slovenia are?" KyAnna asked curiously.

"Slovenia has an E in it, because Arnold _e_ats the chicken drumstick. See, the 'ee' sound?"

"Ohhhh." There was a pause.

Andy raised his hand. "You didn't get to Switzerland or the Benelux nations."

"Switzerland's next. You see, on the top of Italy is a mountain range called the Alps. Part of it is called the Italian Alps, the other part is called the Swiss Alps. That way, just remember Switzerland is on top of Italy – and not in _that_ sense, I'm afraid." Several students sighed wistfully. "Now, for Benelux... here is Belgium. It is _below_ the Netherlands. The Netherlands, also known as Holland, are _north_ of Belgium. Luxembourg is just that _little_ piece next to Belgium."

"We haven't talked about the Nordics yet!" Lucas Arch exclaimed, fluttering his big feathery angel wings. The students sitting behind him batted the feathers out of their eyes.

"Yes, yes. Look up here for the Nordic water snake. It's about to swallow its offspring." Elisabeta pointed to Norway. "Norway is the nose. Sweden, the mouth, tastes the sweet. This water snake has a fin, so that's Finland." She paused. "And down there, the little snake is crying 'Daddy, daddy, don't eat me', so that's Denmark. If you don't like the idea of the snake eating its own child, think of the little snake as a breakfast pastry – a Danish, perhaps?"

"Ahaha, that's so punny," giggled Rinaldia.

"Now to the British Isles!" There were cheers from the Anglophiles. "Everyone knows this is Great Britain, so I will split it up. You can draw a tall E here for England. To the side over here is a whale's fin, for Wales. Up here is Scotty the Scotsman, for Scotland. See, he's got his bagpipes and a big red nose... anyways. Over here is Ireland, and that little piece over there is Northern Ireland. If you squint, you might be able to draw a shamrock onto Ireland."

"What about Iceland? You didn't talk about Iceland when you covered the Nordics," complained Lucas.

"It's up there." Elisabeta pointed to Iceland. "It's icy in Iceland because it's a little farther north than the other Nordics."

"Poor Iceland," sighed Izzy Kzaen.

* * *

Februrary started blurring into March; winter started fading from the campus. The snow started melting, the sun started shining more often, the grass started growing, and the fluffy mint bunnies started multiplying. Outside, Lake Eric finally unfroze. Evrest, the mini-Mountain, started to thaw out. The Staff had scrapped the idea of another concentration camp at its peak – they were more interested in getting the Mochis more space. Frankly, there were a lot of them now.

"That's the last thing I want to see," groaned Neira Henrietta one morning in late February after she and the other members of Ice Queens for Iceland had come across two Mochis going at it in an unoccupied alcove. "Mochi breeding season. Ew."

Yes, indeed. The breeding season was here with a fury. Loki Shadow Reave had been caught sneaking into the abyss where the Balrog (one of the few Crossover guests not required to partake in the pairing frenzy) resided. She had been sentenced to a week in Auchwits and returned with horror stories of wild Mochi orgies on the nudist beach.

Jennifer was pretty sure she had heard about everything, now. She found out that she had been sorely mistaken, then, when traumatised Latin students claimed that the Rome-Wall had been hitting on them. Then Germania-Sword had been oh-so-innocently found in Mama Greece-Vase. Jennifer was also pretty sure that she would never look at Ancient Greek pottery with a straight face ever again.

Another round of exams awaited the students. Canon 101 and History were continuing into third semester, but the language lessons were stopping. All of the language teachers were starting to review everything in preparation for the finals. Current Events, What's In a Name, and Crossovers were also expected to give finals.

"I heard," reported Anita over breakfast the same day Mochi breeding season unofficially began, "that Alfred teaches History third semester."

"No way," Carolina Brown said with a grin. She had, for all intents and purposes, gotten over Franklin. But Dorothy didn't seem to be speaking to her, and the gossip grapevine circulated wild rumours about the sisters. It might have had something to do with Carolina's insistence on bringing Gregory Bob Walton with her to the Australia table.

"Yeah, he covers everything after World War Two." Anita paused. "Do you have the notes on the Treaty of Versailles?"

"Today's Monday, Anita."

"Yeah, but I'm probably not going to get any History homework done later. Doesn't Kiku have a test today?"

The students taking Japanese all looked panicked as well. "Shit!" hissed Alexandria Russell. "I forgot!"

Monday mornings tended to be like that. Jennifer looked at her German notes, hoping that Gilbert forgot about his quiz. He sometimes did that, which tended to be a relief for everyone who didn't study – usually about seventy-five percent of the class.

"Look, more interesting articles on the revolutions," reported Rachael Wilkison, holding up the latest edition of the Bled Chronicles. "And something on the royal engagement –"

The entire room groaned. All of the British personifications, despite the turmoil in the Middle East and the burdens of the crossover plothole, had somehow found the time to be unnaturally peppy about the royal engagement. Mention Kate Middleton, and Arthur was another person in an instant.

"What is it now?" Monochrome Cloud wondered, peering at her own copy. "The launch of the website? Big deal; we can't access it."

_It's overrated, anyways_, sighed Charley Maytha.

"But it's good for vicarious living!" cackled Merka. "I mean, what's not to love about happily ever after?"

"Like we're going to see that happen here," Megan pointed out sourly.

"Meggie, Meggie, being a whore has jaded your outlook on life," Lucia chirped sweetly from where she was sitting with Eva Danielson. "By the way, how are the stickers coming?"

"She's at sixteen stickers," Kitty reported immediately.

Karen DuLay, having come out of hiding (from one Aloisio Guerra), wondered if someone still kept track of how many batches of cookies she gave Ludwig.

"You're up to about one hundred and fifty-seven," reported Anita immediately. "Not counting the cupcakes on Valentines' Day, but those were kinda burnt."

"His fault," Karen snapped, pointing to a certain cherub at the South American table.

"And you wonder why Ludwig goes into hiding," Kiri Olaveja sniffed. "Depriving the rest of us of German eyecandy... you're so cruel, Karen."

"Shut up." Karen pouted.

* * *

"The civil war in Libya rages on, even with military units and diplomats alike defecting to the rebels' cause," reported Sadiq to the room at large. "East Libya is largely considered Free Libya, but of course Gaddafi's troops are going to try and retake those cities."

"We're already getting a shitload of refugees," Lovino complained. Feliciano wasn't available for comment, since he was off in another continuum. Egypt, however, was out of the Hospital Wing and looked at the Italian sympathetically.

"We have to act," agreed Alfred. "But how, I don't know."

"Attack, bien sûr," snapped Francis. Arthur seemed ready to agree with him.

Outside the meeting room, the crossover guests were listening in while trying to pretend that they weren't. Even Mr. Allen looked intrigued. He had been barred from the meeting as well, since he wasn't a Nation.

"I'm a Nation! Why can't I go in?" SatW Sealand demanded. In the absence of Hetalia Sealand, the little dark-haired boy seemed to be even more irritable. SatW England rolled his eyes.

"You are not a Nation, Sealand, and it's for the Nations that live here," he remarked waspishly. "Now quiet down."

"It's sad how we haven't even solved our own problems and they're already on the next one," Ariadne sighed from across the corridor; she was leaning against the wall looking bored. Point Man Arthur stood next to her, glaring at Eames. The Forger was busy talking to SatW Denmark and flashing lewd winks at his colleague.

"They must be close to solving this crossover problem, though," Ron suggested. "I mean, Arthur says he's down to the last ten possible pairings."

"He says that," scoffed Hermione. "He _says_ that."

"Hey, I haven't seen the list!" Ron snapped defensively.

"Well, I heard our Austria has a great working relationship with their Hungary, but they haven't done anything," SatW Sweden said from a few paces away.

"Really?" SatW Norway demanded. "Why not?"

"How are we supposed to know? It's their business," SatW England cut in.

"Still." SatW Iceland had looked up from the book on tightrope walking that he had borrowed from the library. "I'm getting a bit bored of this place."

"How can you get bored of a place that screws you over every morning?" Eames demanded. He still hadn't figured out how to get from place to place with the ever-shifting architecture.

"That's the thing," SatW Iceland sighed. "I want normality." He paused. "Never thought I'd say that."

"You're not normal," scoffed SatW Denmark. "You have a room full of penises."

"A room full of _what_?" demanded Hermione as she and several others scrambled to cover the ears of the younger Nations.

"No, seriously, he has a room dedicated to cut-off phalluses," SatW Sweden stated. "It's disturbing."

"It's not!" screamed SatW Iceland. "It's never enough! You'll never understand!"

"Obviously he's compensating for something," Ron whispered, but suddenly he found himself running away from an enraged Icelandic, clutching his crotch and screaming bloody murder.

"Smooth, Weaselhead, _smooth_," Draco growled. He was standing next to Harry, who was looking rather uneasy.

* * *

"Oh, look at these pictures," crooned Elisabeta. She had ditched the meeting, since none of it was going to concern her. "You got a really good shot of that, SatW Austria."

The blond nodded, grinning as they scrolled through the photos. "Harry and Draco arguing... shame it doesn't actually go to kissing."

"Well, everyone can at least see the tension between them, ne?" Elisabeta giggled. "And those pictures of Point Man Arthur are absolutely superb."

"Child's play, to catch people in the shower," SatW Austria replied with a smirk. "It gets better though – Eames tries to get into the shower there, see?"

Elisabeta snorted. "_Rejected_," she snickered.

"Oh, I'm sure they made it up to each other later," SatW Austria sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You didn't catch that on video?" Elisabeta demanded.

"Well, there aren't any air vents right above their rooms," SatW Austria replied defensively.

Elisabeta sighed. "I see," she said after a moment. "We'll try harder."

SatW Austria cackled. "Ja, we shall." For a moment, the two looked at each other. Elisabeta blushed, looking away after a moment.

"It's nice, working with you. I used to live in Roderich's house – he's your counterpart, you know – and he was a prude. Deliciously sexy, but a prude. It's funny how you two are technically the same country."

"Well, I guess we go by different stereotypes," SatW Austria replied gruffly, shrugging. He also looked a little pink in the face. "But..."

"Hm?" Elisabeta looked at him again.

And somehow, the other Nation's lips were getting closer and closer... Elisabeta blinked.

Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

* * *

There came a commotion in the crowd of guests. "Something's happening," Harry said, clutching his scar.

"Is that thing some sort of warning beacon or something, Potter?" Draco demanded.

The hallway suddenly shook, as if caught in an earthquake. But the earthquake was ridiculously smooth – it was more as if reality itself had distorted.

When it calmed down, the Hetalia Nations poked their heads out of the meeting room. "What was that?" demanded Vash, glaring at the guests. "Who did that?"

"No idea," chorused the SatW Nations. There was a pause.

"Wait, where's our Austria?" SatW Prussia demanded loudly.

"Not with us," Roderich replied. "Anyone seen Elisabeta?"

One plus one made two. Arthur gasped.

"The plothole! Someone check the plothole!"

* * *

**Notes:** Any historical events before the end of the British Empire that you want me to cover? AP Euro testing's next Friday and I'm not feeling too confident about the Louis XIV stuff, for one. I might end up covering him in History – and I'll be taking suggestions and ideas for History/Canon 101 classes from the rest of you, since it's obvious that I have a British history bias here.


	42. Economics 101, With Kiku Honda

**Notes:** Thanks to LolliDictator, another Mochi has joined our ranks. Say hello to Balkins; he likes making wizard robes. /shot

* * *

**Part XVII**

When the Staff arrived at the corridor where the plothole lurked, they found it gone. Congratulations were duly given to the couple that solved the problem (Elisabeta looked a bit bewildered, but SatW Austria fared no better).

"So, the thing's sealed off?" Mr. Allen asked, looking over at Arthur. He and the Bled Pinjas had been inspecting the spot where the plothole had stood just hours ago.

"Seems like it," Arthur replied. "Hopefully for good."

The next issue, of course, was to get everyone back home to the right continuum and to find the missing Staff members. They knew where McCarthy Alfred, MI6 Arthur, and DGSE Francis went, but several other people were missing as well.

"Chibi Romano, Chibinihon, Hong Kong, Seychelles, Peter, Nataliya, Feliciano, Mafia Lovino, CIA Alfred, KGB Ivan, Kempeitai Kiku, DGSE Francis, MI6 Arthur, and McCarthy Alfred all need to be found. We know where the last three are, and there are theories on the table regarding the others' destinations," Mr. Allen instructed as he started fiddling with the Remote Activator. "The easiest way to deal with this is to send all of you home so you can send our colleagues back."

"Not exactly a promising plan," Hermione snapped. "They could be anywhere."

"Have you an alternate proposal, then?" Sadly, Hermione didn't.

"It's going to take us forever," Ron complained audibly as the first portal was set up.

"We have time, I believe," Ninja Kiku replied coolly. "We have all the time in the world."

* * *

"There's something different about the landscape today," Alice Wang pointed out on Tuesday morning as the students did their laps around the stadium. The German Mochis were blowing whistles behind the groups, prodding them on like cattle. Some students had started walking (they were quickly blobbed) and others looked on the verge of pulling a Phidippides – namely, collapsing and dying right there on the track.

"What do you mean?" demanded Crystal Xu, Felciano dangling from her wings happily. She reached back and tried to pluck off the Mochi, but it innocently swung away. "Damn it, you!" the girl exclaimed, batting uselessly at Felciano.

"Well, there aren't any random obstacles on the track." Usually the Staff did not purposely put obstacles on the track, but the crossover plothole had deposited giant mushrooms and hobbit holes all over the stadium every other day. Today, not even the smallest mushroom was seen.

"Wait a second." Katrina Shareen Liew Lay Ee goggled at the mushroom-less stadium. "No way, they finally cured the architecture problems?"

"It's a possibility," Willow mused.

The newer students were still nursing aching legs and stitches in their side at breakfast; the older students looked at them with pity. "You get used to it," Sabrina said with a shrug to Rose!, who came with her very own exclamation point and looked like she had the grandmother of all bad tans.

"Hey. You have the body of a unicorn. You run faster than us," snapped the Writer, currently a very out-of-breath talking cheetah. Apparently the shapeshifter thing only changed his appearance, not his abilities.

"Does it really matter? Calm down," Gillyflower Caulfray, the amazing talking teddy bear, said comfortingly.

Breakfast was kanelbulle with Napoleonbakelse – both of them Swedish pastries. Kanelbulle were cinnamon buns; Napoleonbakelse was Napoleon pastry. Both were taken with cups and cups of strong coffee, although the members of the Royal Society of Tea Drinkers substituted their coffee with very strong black tea.

Nothing like a cup of English Breakfast to start the day, after all.

"I am totally looking forward to dinner," Yuki-rin was telling Kazuma at the Europe table as Jennifer walked by with her third mug of tea. "I heard they're having Swedish meatballs!"

"Those things are delicious," agreed Izzy Kzaen.

"Have you ever tried the ones at IKEA? Oh my god." Yuki-rin grinned. "Those things are like food porn."

"Don't even mention food porn," Kazuma groaned. "I came across Itary and Destchland this morning."

"That's not the food porn I'm talking about!" howled Yuki-rin, looking horrified.

Jennifer winced in agreement and sat down at the North American table with Merka and Kriss, who were obviously holding hands underneath the table. Megan sat across from them talking to Sara Parker about Matthew being a yandere.

"Have you seen him in hockey rage mode? He's so scary," Sara was gushing, her eyes wide. "So hot, too."

"Yandere Matthew is for the win," agreed Megan, grinning.

"How many stickers now?" Jennifer asked her roommate as she sipped her tea.

"Seventeen," Megan replied smugly.

"Who was the unlucky victim?"

Megan smirked. "Mars McMillan."

Merka stared at her. "Wait a sec. Isn't he with Mike Hawk?"

"He can't resist some pussy action once in a while," Megan drawled.

"You ruin lives, you know that, right?" Kriss stated matter-of-factly. Megan cackled.

"You're only young once, darling."

* * *

Canon 101 focused on the German Hyperinflation that day. "I do believe that you are learning about the Treaty of Versailles in your History class?" Kiku asked the room at large later that morning. "What we cover today is a result of the Treaty of Versailles."

The Kiku fangirl, also known as Lucy Robinson-Honda, seemed to be causing a steady saliva waterfall as she ogled him from her front-row seat. Karen DuLay and the other Ludwig fangirls looked just as eager to get the lecture started, although they weren't drooling at the lecturer.

"Can anyone list some important points in the Treaty of Versailles?" Kiku queried.

"Germany had a cap on its military and navy, and was not allowed to have an air force," Kiri Olaveja said immediately.

"Yes, they also couldn't make weapons, their colonies were taken and mandated by the British and French, and they were required to give free coal to France and Belgium," added Karen DuLay.

"France got back Alsace and Lorraine, which the Germans had taken from them in the Franco-Prussian War," Natashia Fernandez reported.

"The Allies were going to temporarily occupy the western bank of the Rhine and the Saar basin; this place was to be demilitarized and made into a buffer zone between France and Germany," added Tori Troutman.

"There was a clause in the treaty!" Karen pitched in. "I can't remember the number, but it was the War Guilt Clause!"

"Yes, Article 231," replied Kiku. "It condemned Germany for the entire war and pinned heavy reparations on him."

"But World War One started in Eastern Europe," Karin Guarez pointed out.

"Exactly. The treaty was extremely unfair. It sought to cripple and isolate Germany, leading the way to hyperinflation and then the rise of Adolf Hitler," Kiku said. "The German military immediately blamed the civilian government for agreeing to the treaty, claiming that they had been capable of winning the war and were betrayed by the German people. The delegates for the new government met in the spa town of Weimar, hence their name 'the Weimar Republic'. The Weimar Republic was bicameral, meaning that it had two legislative houses: the Reichsrat and the Reichstag. The Reichsrat was the upper house, and it represented the Federal states. The Reichstag was the lower house, and its 647 members were elected and supplied the country with a chancellor and cabinet. Like most parliamentary democracies, the leader of the political party with the most votes became the new chancellor. Germany's president was elected separately for a seven-year term." He paused again, before continuing. "This government used the _Freikorps_, groups of demobilised soldiers and students, to put down the 1919 Spartacist Revolt. They also had to repay the huge amounts of reparations that came from the Treaty of Versailles and were justified by Article 231. I believe the reparations amounted to 31.4 billion American dollars." There were horrified looks from the students.

"If I had that amount of money..." mused Karen DuLay thoughtfully.

"We all wish we had that amount of money," Merka pitched in from the USUK side of the classroom.

"Moving on, please," Kiku said firmly. "In order to pay for the reparations, Germany borrowed heavily from other Nations. The resulting inflation started devaluing the mark. When Germany defaulted because of its debt, France and Belgium occupied the industrial Ruhr valley. The government encouraged the inhabitants of the Ruhr to resist the French and the Belgians by going on strike, and printed tons and tons of worthless currency to reimburse the workers. As a result, the hyperinflation began. One American dollar was worth 4.2 trillion German marks."

"I heard that people used wheelbarrows of marks to buy a turnip," Karen said.

"That was probably true. Ludwig-san once said that he could buy a cup of coffee and by the time he finished the price would have gone up," Kiku replied. "People papered their walls with marks, burned them for fuel in the winter, and turned them into bricks for children to play with. Within seven months, Germany had six different chancellors and suffered over 350 political murders. In November 1923, the National Socialist German Workers' Party pulled the Beer Hall putsch, which failed and led to the arrest and imprisonment of its leader, Adolf Hitler."

"He didn't even serve his entire sentence," Tori pointed out. "And he wrote _Mein Kampf_ during this time."

"It is an interesting book," agreed Kiku, "if you would like to become unbelievably enraged and start calling Hitler all sorts of unflattering names."

"So even _you_ got mad reading that book?" asked Anita Khok. Kiku stared levelly at her. "I suppose so."

"Moving on, though," the Japanese continued serenely after a moment. "Eventually, chancellor Gustav Stresemann ended the resistance in the Ruhr and introduced the rentenmark. The rentenmark was equal to one billion of the old marks and was backed by land."

"What do you mean by that, Nihon-sama?" Lucy asked dreamily.

"I mean, Akuma-san, that Germany's rentenmark was supported by the mortgage value of its farm and industrial land. Since Germany had no gold to back his currency – it had all gone to the reparations – Stresemann decided to use land instead, because land is valuable as well." He paused. "Allow me to broadly explain how currency works. Currency works by trust. For example, if I were to go to Alfred-san's house, I trust that his dollar will get me the service or goods that I require. Countries on the gold standard trust that their currency is a proportional substitute for a certain weight of gold and that they can convert all of their currency to the gold sitting in their treasuries, if needed. If I were to say that this pen –" he held up his whiteboard marker, " – is going to be my new currency and it is equivalent to one of Alfred's dollars, then everyone else who uses my pen to buy things also trust that my pen is just as valuable as one of Alfred's dollars. But all of this is just simple economics, and I will not bore you any more about it. Just understand that Germany's new currency was tied to its land and therefore had more value than the old mark."

The students definitely looked a bit lost at Kiku's explanation, but they took it in stride.

"The hyperinflation evoked sympathy from the Allies, which led to the Dawes Plan. This plan was a more reasonable debt repayment plan for Germany, in which the Nation had to pay a quarter of a billion dollars annually for four years. If his economy improved, the price would be increased. In return, the Americans loaned $200 million to the Germans and the other Allies pulled out of the Ruhr. Germany used the American loan to pay France and Britain, who were also in debt to the United States and therefore used that money to repay him."

Several students snickered at that.

"Nevertheless, Germany was wounded deeply by the Treaty of Versailles and the resulting hyperinflation. The people blamed the government for their problems, the military believed they could still show German supremacy, and everyone resented the Allies and thirsted for revenge. So it was obvious that Adolf Hitler and his Nazi stormtroopers struck a chord with the general public. Nazi marches were orderly and reminiscent of the previously glorious German army. Hitler's passionate speeches and dogma used a minority scapegoat for Germany's woes – namely, the Jews and anyone else who didn't measure up to Hitler's racial standards. By modern-day standards, Hitler would have been locked up in a mental institution. But at that time, he was a hero who promised stability and glory for Germany once more."

* * *

"Adolf Hitler was a twisted old loony," declared Kriss at lunch. "Imagine what trouble we could have been spared if that Viennese art school had actually accepted him."

"His paintings were okay," Jennifer reasoned. "Kinda lifeless at times, but... I bet they're worth fortunes now."

"Get a picture of a flower, painted by everyone's least favourite dictator!" Merka remarked, snickering. "Buy one, get one free!"

"Anyways," Jennifer said after a moment of giggling, "did you notice how easy it was to get to and from class today?"

"I didn't notice," Kriss mumbled. "I guess I stopped noticing?"

"Well, the strange architecture's gone," Merka said. "I mean, this morning..."

"There weren't mushrooms in the stadium," Jodie Smith piped up as she walked past. "You noticed that?"

"I don't notice a lot of things, apparently," complained Kriss. "Maybe I need a vacation."

"Spring break comes up the week after finals," Jennifer pointed out helpfully.

"That's too far away."

"The weekend, then. I don't know. Take a nap this afternoon. Something, anything."

Kriss rolled her eyes. "You forgot that we have to study Wilson's Fourteen Points, because Arthur's gonna quiz us on that tomorrow in History."

"And we have to read that chapter on the Great Depression and Franklin Delano Roosevelt's New Deal," Merka added. "But I don't mind too much, since Arthur promised to talk about the Special Relationship!" She grinned toothily.

"Lucky you!" whined Cassandra Thibaud. "We get to cover the War of 1812 tomorrow, though. I can't wait!"

"Ivan, covering the War of 1812," Jennifer remarked. "Sounds like alcohol and drugs."

"What does that mean?" demanded Septembre Nightingale.

"Let's put it this way. People like alcohol and drugs. People like USUK and Ivan. But put them together and it's kinda odd."

"I see." There was a pause. "Lucky you anyways."

* * *

Feliciano was the first to return; he returned with a platter of pasta that he had nicked from the kitchens at Hogwarts.

"It was really really strange, ve," he said, as Chibi Romano and Chibinihon piled out of the portal behind him, bickering over a Canary Cream. "There were lots of strange candies and food! But the people were nice, since I told them I would try to help them and that I was lost and I had relatives in London –"

"Sure you do," Arthur remarked drily. "Giuseppe Garibaldi doesn't count."

"Some of the girls were really pretty, which is surprising since I thought all British people had thick eyebrows!" Feliciano looked pleased with himself, not noticing Arthur's miffed expression. "And it was strange that the food was so good, but they apparently used magic so I guess that explains everything. And the staircases kept moving!"

"The people who found you are fine, right?" Elisabeta asked concernedly, patting Chibi Romano's head. "The girl and the three boys are okay, right?"

"I don't give a fuck about them," the little bad-tempered Italian replied, causing Chibinihon to gasp. Yao rushed forward and picked up the little Japanese boy, gushing about how much he missed him.

"I have lots of sweets for you, aru!" he exclaimed. "Did you miss Big Brother Yao?"

"Not as much as I thought I would," Chibinihon replied matter-of-factly, bowing his head slightly. Yao took it all in stride.

"At least you three are back," Ludwig said to Feliciano, blushing ever-so-slightly when the Italian engulfed him in a bear hug.

"LUDDY, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH OVER THERE!" Feliciano bawled. "EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE PASTA AND GIRLS, I MISSED YOU!"

"It's nice to know I was missed," Ludwig mumbled, sending a 'help me!' look at Kiku, who only smiled.

For a moment, everything seemed normal again.


	43. A Special Relationship

**Notes:** HEY YOU GAIZ, OSAMA BIN LADEN'S DEAD! HAHA, LET'S GO TO THE HAMBURGER STREET /BOMBED

* * *

**Part XVIII**

The next staff members to return were Seychelles, CIA Alfred, and KGB Ivan. They had been a bit discomforted by the lack of modern plumbing at their destination. Poor Seychelles, whose skin colour fluctuated on a regular basis, had also been poked and prodded by several curious hobbits (they expressed great curiosity about any skin colour that wasn't pale like theirs) and thus sported several bruises on her arms.

"They still have my taser," complained CIA Alfred as he stepped through the plothole. "At least it's useless now, but still."

"Why did you let them have your taser?" demanded Policeman Arthur. "You irresponsible Yank!"

"Well, Pippin seemed to like it, especially after he accidentally tased one of his sisters, so..."

"You git! Those hobbits don't know anything about modern technology! You're not supposed to show them modern technology!"

"I also gave Merry a Pop-Tart; is that okay?"

Policeman Arthur ran to the wall and started banging his head against it. "You're not supposed to give anything modern to those people, all right? It's like those cargo cults you created during World War Two. You paraded your technology in front of some confused natives, and some of them still haven't let off with their crazy ritual practices with the straw airplanes and the fake control towers!"

"But it's so cool that those guys think I'm John Frum or something!" CIA Alfred exclaimed. "I mean, you're one to talk, really. Don't they worship your queen's consort?"

"He's a prince. But that's irrelevant, because Prince Phillip didn't swagger about the island showing the natives his guns. If we catch wind of some sort of cult in Middle-earth centred around your stupid taser –"

"Don't tase me, bro!"

Seychelles and KGB Ivan watched CIA Alfred with resigned looks on their faces.

* * *

"We need another seminar," Mr. Allen told Tino and Berwald as Peter Kirkland stepped out of the portal, still clutching a giant chocolate cake. Apparently Claude Faustus had made it for him – which naturally meant that when Sebastian arrived to escort them to the portal, he checked the cake for poison.

"Another seminar?" echoed Tino as he patted Peter on the head. "On what?"

"Common portrayals of characters like Ivan, Arthur, and Francis as serial rapists, what else?" Mr. Allen asked, causing Berwald to cover Peter's ears.

"That is a bit of a problem, I'll admit," Tino said thoughtfully. "We can extend it to common portrayals of all the Nations in smut fic. I for one hate being portrayed as a submissive uke." He looked levelly at Berwald.

"S'm'n's b'n sp'nd'ng t' m'ch t'me w'th S'tW F'nl'nd," Berwald remarked drily.

"If I am, it's none of your concern," Tino replied smoothly. "I know Arthur has been agitating over the blushing uke stereotype as well."

"Right," said Mr. Allen briskly, adjusting his tie. "Pick a date for the seminar, then."

"The weekend after next," Tino suggested. "Tentatively, though."

"Sounds like a plan," Mr. Allen replied. "However, I would like to point out that the earlier students have not had the chance to sit through the earlier seminars –"

"That's easy; we can have Elisabeta cover those topics," Tino dismissed.

"W'll g't t' w'rk 'n th' l'ss'n pl'n, th'n," Berwald added.

"Perfect." Mr. Allen made a memorandum in his pocket planner before striding down the corridor. "Who just left?" he asked Alfred.

"Oh, the guys who invade dreams. And Nat and Hong Kong just came back from their place," Alfred replied. "My paranoid counterpart's still stuck in the parallel world, right?"

"We'll fetch him after we get the National personifications home." Mr. Allen waved to John Bull, Uncle Sam, Marianne, Mother Russia, and Mother Canada, who were queuing up in front of the portal. "Where's Arthur?"

"History class, where else? He's supposed to be talking about the Special Relationship today!"

"Why do I get the feeling that he's only doing it to be fair? Considering that he covered the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and the Entente Cordiale..."

"He covered the Entente Cordiale?" echoed Alfred.

"Well, it's a bit hard to talk about the alliance system before World War One without talking about the Entente Cordiale, yeah?" Mr. Allen pointed out.

"He never told me he covered the Entente Cordiale!" Alfred snickered. "I'm going to go sit in on his lecture, anyways."

Mr. Allen nodded, watching the American bounce away. Moments later, Mafia Lovino stumbled out of the portal. "Damn Britannia, damn Citizen François, damn Italia and Germania..." he grumbled as he dusted off his pants and glared at the others. "Whaddya lookin' at?" he snarled.

"Calm your tits, bro," snapped Gilbert Beilschmidt. "Who's next to leave?"

"We are," Pakisu-tan said, referring to herself and her friends. The blonde with the crown, the blonde with the mink coat, and Meriken also nodded.

"Right, then," said Roderich Edelstein. "Off you go, then."

"We'll miss you, Meriken!" the remaining American personifications piped up.

"Don't forget to write, Britain," Rose Kirkland called after the blonde in the crown.

"Afu!" squeaked Afuganisu-tan, running over to give Sadiq a hug – she tripped and fell halfway there. Groaning slightly, Sadiq stepped forward, picked her up, and hugged her.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" the Turk said sternly. "And for heaven's sake stop using so much opium."

"Afu," replied Afuganisu-tan sheepishly. Terrorist Cat slunk up next to her. Meriken glared daggers at it.

They all managed to file through the portal without any significant issues (other than Meriken and Terrorist Cat getting into another brawl and rolling through the portal). Moments after they left, Kempeitai Kiku came stumbling back.

"Oh, I seem to be back," the Japanese remarked drily as he pocketed his pistol.

"Welcome back," replied Mr. Allen coolly.

* * *

"The Special Relationship," sighed Arthur as he started writing on the board (of course, the USUKers took up the first few rows and were trying to see what he was writing), "is a phrase used to describe the cultural, political, economic, historical, diplomatic, and military relations between the United Kingdom and the United States. It is not completely synonymous with normal Anglo-American relations, since those may fluctuate. What the Special Relationship refers to is the shared heritage between these two Nations that leads to their remarkably stable relations." He turned around to see Alfred sitting in the back. "Alfred, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Listening to you talk about us," Alfred replied in tones of mock innocence. "What else?"

"Sod off," groaned Arthur. "We're beginning this lecture when the term was first coined – namely, during the World War Two era. British Prime Minister Winston Churchill made a speech in 1945 that used the term 'special relationship' to describe the ties between the United Kingdom, the United States, and Canada, but he was only emphasising something that many other Nations had recognised before. As early as 1859, the British and the Americans have been working together. Between the end of the Civil War and the beginning of World War One, the Great Rapprochement occurred, in which Anglo-American objectives converged and relations warmed."

The USUK fangirls tittered, causing everyone else to glare at them.

"But back to the original topic. World War Two marked a time when Anglo-American relations were remarkably strong due to the closeness between Churchill and Roosevelt. They were actually distant relations of each other, since Churchill had a mother who was in the American social elite, like the Roosevelts. But that has no bearing on their close working relationship. Churchill actually spent a lot of time at the White House during the war, and he and Roosevelt were the closest pair out of the Big Three. After World War Two, Churchill used the term again to describe the relations between the United States and the British Commonwealth and Empire – basically, the Anglosphere. He believed that the cooperation between these nations is 'probably the only means by which [the World Organisation] will reach its full stature and strength'."

"Hell yeah," snickered Merka. Shelby glared at her.

"But let's freeze time there and revert back to the beginning of this long relationship," continued Arthur pedantically as he stared at the class from the podium. "What do you lot remember from your previous classes about the original thirteen colonies, the American Revolution, and the War of 1812?"

"The first permanent English settlement in mainland North America was at Jamestown," Tori Troutman immediately said.

"That was followed by the Plymouth Colony, founded by the Pilgrims," added Karin Guarez.

"The Province of New York came from the Dutch colony of New Netherland," Kriss Kross piped up from the non-USUK section of the room. "The Province of New Jersey split from that."

"Yes, yes. At first the colonies were granted quite a bit of freedom. But by the time of the French and Indian War, colonial policy was becoming more and more mercantilist and restrictive." Arthur wrote the term 'mercantilism' on the board. "What is mercantilism?"

"The belief that Nations prosper depending on their money supplies," Tori said immediately.

"I think it had something to do with bullion, too," added Carolina Brown, "And exporting more than importing."

"Yes, yes, but there's one very important thing in mercantilism that applied to the American colonies," Arthur said. "Can anyone tell me what?"

_The colonies!_ Luna Correa exclaimed enthusiastically. _The reason why countries had colonies at this time was because they needed a source for raw materials and a market for manufactured goods. Countries traded more with colonies than with other countries._

"Exactly. We imposed trade restrictions on the Americans, limiting their growth and constraining their earning potential. We expected them to help repay the debts of the French and Indian War, meaning that we raised taxes on things like stamps and tea."

"Of course," butted in Alfred, "I couldn't stand for none of that taxation without representation, so I threw Artie's tea into Boston Harbour!"

"Couldn't you at least attempt to use decent English?" Arthur demanded. "You are butchering the English language!"

"Nuh-uh! I'm making it better!" Alfred exclaimed defensively.

"You are not, you twat!" Arthur huffed. "Moving on! Parliament passed what Alfred called the Intolerable Acts, ultimately triggering the revolution. The Declaration of Independence followed a year after. In 1781, the British surrendered to the Americans at the Siege of Yorktown, leading to the Treaty of Paris in 1783 in which the United Kingdom had to recognise the United States of America as an independent Nation. Tensions still remained hostile, especially after the Embargo Act of 1807, which led to the War of 1812. The War of 1812 arose from the Royal Navy's impressments of American sailors. The last conflict from that war was in 1815."

"You're going ridiculously fast with these," Alfred remarked. "Still sore that I beat you twice?"

"It's all review," Arthur replied waspishly. "And had I won the War of 1812, you'd be spelling 'colour' with a U."

"Dream on, old man, dream on," snickered Alfred. "You're at the Monroe Doctrine, anyways!"

"Yes, and that was just an excuse for you to hide behind my legs," Arthur growled. Alfred opened his mouth to protest. "Don't you even dare! You know as well as I do that had I not backed your Monroe Doctrine with my navy, you would have had to fight more countries than Mexico to get your goddamned Manifest Destiny!"

"Be that way, you old meanie," pouted Alfred. "I mean, I probably could have handled it on my own!"

"No one took you seriously back then," snapped Arthur. "Except myself, so be grateful that I was still guarding your house while you navel-gazed for a century or so." He turned to the students, sending particularly poisonous glares at the USUK students (they were making heart shapes with their hands). "Moving on. The Caroline Affair involved British North Americans burning an American ship that they used to smuggle supplies into British North America, the Aroostook War consisted of lumberjacks fighting over the Maine-New Brunswick border, and the Pig War involved an escaped pig and debates over the border in relation to the San Juan and Gulf Islands. However, those disputes gave way to the first sign of British-American cooperation, during the Second Opium War in 1859. Admiral Sir James Hope was trying to seize the Tako Forts in northeastern China, and Commodore Josiah Tattnall helped relieve his wounded. It was an unofficial gesture, and the Americans were supposed to be neutral."

"That's so cute, Alfred, you were caring for Iggy's wounded," cooed Hotaru.

"I wasn't!" Alfred complained. "I was trying to be a hero and help!"

"By caring for the wounded," Arthur insisted, sniggering. "Anyways, moving on to the Civil War. Britain was neutral during this war, but in 1861 the _USS San Jacinto_ stopped the British civilian vessel _RMS Trent_ and took off two Confederate diplomats onboard. That affair, known as the Trent Affair, nearly sparked a third British-American war. All throughout the Civil War, Britain vacillated between the Union and the Confederacy. Recognising the Confederacy would equate to war with the Union, but those southern states exported lots of cotton to Britain as well. But not just cotton – grain was also a very important import for Britain, and the United States had a lot of cheap grain. Aside from that, the United States was, at this time, allied with the Russian Empire –"

"Wait, so there was a time when Alfred and Ivan weren't hurling insults at each other?" Sally Cruz demanded.

"Yeah, but that was before he went Commie," Alfred replied dismissively.

"You know Russia's stopped being Communist, right?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Once a Commie, forever a Commie!" Alfred huffed. "Let's move on! You know I totally would have taken over Canada if I had gone to war against you in this as well!"

"Er, yes, considering that your Union Army outnumbered my forces in British North America at the time – but numbers alone mean nothing, you know." Arthur harrumphed and continued. "Aside from the Trent Affair, the _CSS Alabama_ was another issue between the United States and the United Kingdom at this time. The _Alabama_ was a British-built commerce raider that sailed under the Confederacy and damaged several Union ships. After the Civil War, the United States sued the United Kingdom for those damages and for violating neutrality. An international tribunal in 1871 arbitrated this case, known as the Alabama Claims, and the British ended up paying 15.5 million dollars in gold but admitted no guilt."

"You know, one of the guys involved in that was Charles Abbott," Merka piped up, snickering at Charlie Tenterden, who was doodling on his binder. "He was the third Baron Tenterden."

Arthur also looked over at Charlie. "Charles Stuart Aubrey Abbott, hm? Last time I saw him he had a sense of moderation."

"He was also balding," Alfred agreed.

The other students snickered at Charlie, who seemed to be the polar opposite of his theoretical historical counterpart.

"Benjamin Disraeli didn't really like him." Arthur sighed after a moment. "I wonder why. Anyways, back to the topic at hand. After the Civil War, relations between the UK and the US still remained stormy due to several border disputes. One of them was over the Alaskan-British North American border; the other was over the Venezuelan-British Guiana border. These were both settled peacefully, although for a few days the two Nations nearly went to war again over the latter dispute. This period of distrust and tension ended with the Great Rapprochement in 1895, eighty years after the War of 1812."

"Oh, yes, yes!" squealed Alfred. "Talk about the Spanish-American War, Artie, talk about the Spanish-American War!"

"Alfred! Will you please pipe down and let me continue with the lecture?" Arthur demanded. "The Great Rapprochement was clearly shown when the British took the American side during the Spanish-American War. I fear that the British tradition of taking the American side in conflicts seems to continue even today." Several students snickered. "Originally, the British had sided with the Spanish, but when the Americans assured that they would grant Cuba independence, they switched. But that pales in comparison to the other territorial gains made by the US during this time – after that war, the US emerged as an empire with a growing navy. Germany and Britain quickly began vying for an alliance with the United States. As you can see, Alfred sided with me against Ludwig."

"Well, yeah, I mean Anglophilia was on the rise at my house around this time –"Alfred began to say, but quickly cut off at the gleeful looks on the USUKers' faces. "Anyways, you gonna talk about World War One?"

"I suppose," Arthur replied stiffly. "Originally, the US did not join the war at its onset, but after the sinking of the _RMS Lusitania_, the Zimmerman telegram, and several other factors, they joined on the Allied side. President Wilson contributed his Fourteen Points to the Paris Peace Conference, and the rest of that you already know. Between the two World Wars, however, the United States reverted back to its isolationist policies. They had a right to build a navy as great as the Royal Navy's, but they chose not to do so just yet. Instead of rivalling the British, the Americans began to rival the Japanese. That, in a way, led to the dissolution of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance."

There were noises of outrage from the Asakiku shippers; Kriss levelled a very nasty glare at Alfred.

"You see, Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald visited the United States in 1930. He believed in the Special Relationship, and therefore relied on the Washington, or Five-Power, Treaty instead of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance to maintain peace in the East. That, as you very well know, was a mistake." Arthur nodded sadly. "Now that we have the history covered, let's talk about the other aspects of the Special Relationship. Apparently Churchill had once said to French General Charles de Gaulle that if he had to choose between him and Roosevelt, he would choose Roosevelt – stop snickering!" That last part he directed to the giggling USUK fangirls. "Alfred and I also have a Combined Chiefs of Staff that was created in December 1941, which commands all British and American military operations. Alfred also keeps several military bases at my house –"

"Yeah, all your bases are belong to us," Alfred snickered.

"Shut up, Ivan said that I was 'the biggest aircraft carrier in the world' thanks to you," Arthur snapped.

"Haha, that you are! I keep all of my weapons of mass destruction inside you!" Alfred crowed, but he suddenly paused mid-fistpump. "Wait, that didn't sound right."

The damage was done, since the USUK fangirls were in hysterics.

"Moving on! We also developed nuclear weapons together under the 1958 US-UK Mutual Defence Agreement, where the United States supplied delivery systems, designs, and material for British warheads. In the field of airplanes, the United Kingdom is the only collaborative –"

"Level One, you mean," Alfred added with a grin. "Artie's the only Level One international partner in my F-35 Lightning II program. He helped write the specifications and selections, and BAE Systems is a partner of Lockheed Martin. Both of us use the other's airplanes, too."

"Regarding intelligence, the UKUSA Community combines the intelligence-sharing capacities of the US, the UK, Australia, and Canada, and promotes cooperation between those organisations," Arthur continued. "They do not spy on each other."

"Dunno about that; I think Australia stole my diary a few months back, before the Mary Sue thing," Alfred pointed out.

"Shut up; that never happened," Arthur replied stonily. "Economics-wise, the United States is the largest source of foreign investment in the United Kingdom, and vice versa."

"And had it not been for your Adam Smith and your John Maynard Keynes, I wouldn't be very capitalistic, would I?" Alfred added, smirking. "And our fashion and music industries influence each other. Everyone loves the Beatles."

"Oh, hush. Let's not forget Lady Gaga and Alexander McQueen," Arthur pointed out. "Both promoted strange fashion tastes." He paused. "In that same vein, the British and American pop culture coincide frequently, like how there is a _Harry Potter_-themed amusement park in Florida and how several British actors have played American superheroes. Alessandro Nivola, an American actor who played Englishman Arthur Capel in _Coco Avant Chanel_, married a British actress named Emily Mortimer. In that same vein, though, let's talk about personal relationships –" Naturally the USUKers cheered. "The most infamous comes from the relationship between King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee. The Abdication Crisis in 1936 came from that; Edward was given the choice to retain his throne or renounce his birthright to marry her. Nowadays, that wouldn't be much of an issue, considering Prince William's engagement –"

"The Royal Wedding! Oh, I can't wait!" squaled Alfred, causing several giggles from the students.

"Yeah, that," Arthur nodded. "But there are several less controversial ones – the working relationships between Churchill and Roosevelt, and all of their successors. Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher were also very close; Reagan adopted Thatcher's policies in the US, after all. But of course, the current relationship between David Cameron and Barack Obama must be mentioned here. They have, at several times, given several allusions to the deep relationship between Britain and the Unted States, but Cameron has tried to tone down the idealism inherent in all of it." He coughed. "But in conclusion, the Special Relationship is ongoing, and will be ongoing as long as we remain Nations. It denotes not just historical and diplomatic relations – simple Anglo-American relations, in a sense – but also the closeness between the two militaries, economies, and cultures. Taking into consideration our shared heritage and ideals, not to mention the fixation many of Alfred's citizens seem to have with our accents –"

The American members of the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles all looked sheepish.

"I must say that Alfred and I do share a deep bond, which has been taken every which way by the Hetalia fanbase. Just because of the existence of this Special Relationship doesn't mean we're a canon couple, and that is something that many of you must realise before you debunk or support the two of us as a pairing."

"Okay, Artie, are you done?" Alfred complained as soon as Arthur stepped away from the podium. "We've got so much going on in the Staff Section! I bet you've missed everything by now!"

Arthur coughed again, his voice sounding slightly hoarse. "Homework! Analyse your take on the Special Relationship and write me a two-page essay on how that belief translates into your works as a Hetalia fan. Class dismissed!"


	44. The Church of Tenterdenism

**Notes:** Looks like it's that time of the story for third trimester applications! Let me clarify things: you are more than welcome to submit multiple students and to be as creative and cracky as you can. I'm still looking for a SatW troll student and additions to the Special People club are always welcome. To simplify things, please list only one or two languages in the language category and _specify _any OTPs or Lust Objects in their corresponding questions. It'll make my life a bit easier. In that same vein, conciseness is key. Unless you are seriously shooting for the Nerd Group (which is a lot more selective than the Special People group, Lurkers United, and the pairing groups), keep your responses short and sweet. I don't read every word of the form, and usually when people fill out forms and surveys they tend to only say what's needed. The IAHF registration form is not a college application, people.

That being said, good luck to everyone taking the AP tests (I am, for Euro. SNAP, I AM SO CLUELESS ABOUT THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION, MOMMA PLEASE)!

Another quick note to explain any incoherency in this chapter: I GOT ACCEPTED AT THE CALIFORNIA STATE SUMMER SCHOOL FOR THE ARTS, CREATIVE WRITING DEPARTMENT! FUCK YES, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW FUCKING HAPPY I AM. I thought I'd be rejected, to be honest, since the stuff I submitted was kinda... well... it's not as deep as the stuff I do for IAHF and I had a slightly controversial piece as one of the submissions... OH WELL, I GUESS I FINALLY DID SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE WITH MY LIFE.

* * *

**Part XIX**

March settled in on the IAHF campus, kicking out the snow as it got comfortable. Grass, dotted with little flowers, poked through the frost towards the increasingly sunny skies. As Lake Eric defrosted some more, Lucia Verdas (and her new mermaid companion, Zariana-Sylvia Middleford) moved back into the lake. Pirate Arthur and his French and Spanish counterparts planned to launch their ships on St. Patrick's Day. The Alfreds planned to dye the lake green.

The last missing members of the Staff were brought back a week before St. Patrick's Day; the SatW Nations had been the last guests to leave. Rumour had it that Arthur and Elisabeta both had very emotional partings with SatW England and SatW Austria, but that was alleviated with promises to keep correspondence.

In the meantime, though, Wizard Arthur was trying to teach a Crossover class without the Trio and their Slytherin tag-along.

"Today we'll be covering Hetalia and Harry Potter crossovers, and the similarities and clichés found in those fics," the thick-browed wizard announced. "Let's uh... begin with the Sorting. I will write a Nation's name on the board; you will give me a House and tell me your reasoning behind your choice." He turned and wrote his own name on the board.

"Gryffindor!" Hotaru said immediately. "Arthur's chivalrous and brave and he needs to be with Alfred! Plus, he's usually a good guy, since he's one of the Allies."

"Hufflepuff," Shelby added. "He's pretty hardworking and very loyal."

"No, he's Ravenclaw, bitches," snapped Emmanuella Escantara. "He's smart and sarcastic."

"You all have it wrong," declared Kriss, standing up. "Slytherin, motherfuckers."

"And you have a reason for that?" Wizard Arthur asked.

"Well, yeah," Kriss replied, shrugging. "He's cunning. He does everything for himself. He's intelligent enough to ensure his own survival, and he's brilliant at naval tactics – unless Churchill's at the tactical table, of course."

"All of these are viable reasons," Wizard Arthur agreed. "The most popular House for me seems to be Gryffindor, though, with Slytherin in close second and Ravenclaw in third."

Jennifer looked rather guilty.

"Moving on, though," continued Wizard Arthur, erasing his name and replacing it with Alfred's.

"GRYFFINDOR," several students said immediately.

"He's the hero, of course!" added Merka, grinning.

"He could also be a bit Slytherin, with all of that gunboat diplomacy," Tori added thoughtfully.

"But it's already widely accepted that Alfred would be in Gryffindor for his hero complex," Wizard Arthur said, nodding. He then turned to the board and replaced Alfred's name with Francis's.

"Slytherin," Kriss said immediately. "He sleeps with everyone."

"That's not exactly a requirement for Slytherin," Hotaru pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I think Francis has a bit of a dark side that he hides very well," Jennifer piped up. "From all of his revolutions and stuff, you know? And sometimes he can be a bit of a coward, so..."

"He's more of a Hufflepuff," Alexandria Peterson said thoughtfully.

"No, he's not," Kriss retorted. "Hufflepuffs are loyal and hard-working."

"And they're the Canada of Hogwarts, so that's just a broad description," Alexandria pointed out.

"What about Gryffindor? Francis can be brave when he wants to," Natashia Fernandez said. "Or he could be in Ravenclaw, since he does have all those_ philosophes_ and he questions authority a lot."

"You don't see the Frog in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw as often as you see him in Slytherin or Hufflepuff," Wizard Arthur said thoughtfully. "And he could also be from Beauxbatons, since that's in France." He wrote down Ivan's name.

"Slytherin," several people immediately said.

"Since he's evil," added Merka, causing the Russia fangirls to glare at her.

"I say Hufflepuff," declared Jennifer loudly. "Since Slytherins don't aspire to live in warm sunflower fields."

"But Hufflepuffs don't want the world to become one with them," retorted Merka.

"Who says that? Hufflepuffs are all for solidarity, bro," Megan butted in loudly.

"Enough, enough," Wizard Arthur snapped. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff are both possible choices for Ivan, although Slytherin is more popular than Hufflepuff. And if you don't want to choose, put him in Durmstrang." Ivan's name was quickly replaced with Matthew's.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" several students called.

"Since Hufflepuff's the Canada of Hogwarts," Alexandria reaffirmed.

"Although yandere Matthew could easily get into Slytherin," Sara Parker added, grinning.

"And the Sorting Hat could confuse him for Alfred, so he'd end up in Gryffindor," Merka pointed out.

"Hufflepuff, followed by Gryffindor," agreed Wizard Arthur as he replaced Matthew's name with Yao's.

"Ravenclaw, no doubt," Ryosuke Nakayama said immediately.

"Apparently it's an Asian thing," Wizard Arthur snickered. "Ravenclaw's usually the Asian house in crossovers with Hetalia." He paused to let everyone laugh. "Let me point out, then, that the most intelligent person in Harry's year was Hermione Granger, who was not Asian and not in Ravenclaw."

"But Cho Chang, the only Asian girl in the books, was in Ravenclaw," Alexandria noted.

"Wry you get into Gryffindor? Wry not Ravencraw?" Kriss mocked, eliciting snickers from the Asians.

"Very funny, Miss Kross," deadpanned Wizard Arthur. "Moving on." He then wrote Kiku's name on the board.

"Ravenclaw," people chorused.

"Slytherin!" Kriss exclaimed enthusiastically. "He's cunning and he has a dark side!"

"Don't remind me," Anastasia Debby muttered.

"He could also be in Gryffindor," Lucy Robinson-Honda said dreamily, "since he's so brave..."

"Er, yes. Kiku is often in Slytherin, followed by Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Wizard Arthur said, writing Ludwig's name on the board.

"Slytherin," Kiri Olaveja said, causing Karen DuLay to bawl something about Ludwig not being evil. "Since he's cunning enough, with the whole Bismarck thing."

"OH MY GOD, I HAVE A HISTORICAL BONER FOR BISMARCK," Megan screamed.

"You have boners for everyone," Jennifer pointed out sweetly.

"I don't have boners for _everyone_!" protested the alien. "I have a blacklist, you know!"

"A very_ short_ blacklist," Lucia added in a stage whisper, causing everyone to snicker.

"Back to Ludwig!" Karen snapped. "He's more Hufflepuff, since he's hardworking and loyal! Or he could be Ravenclaw, since he's really smart –"

"Ludwig is usually in Slytherin and then Hufflepuff," Wizard Arthur affirmed as he wrote Feliciano's name on the board.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" squealed Mitsuki Horenake. "He's cute and he probably can't go anywhere else!"

"Ravenclaw, since he started the Renaissance," Franklin Livingston piped up.

"Slytherin, since he's a bit of a coward," Merka said, causing Mitsuki to glare daggers at her. "Well, he surrenders and runs away so often and relies on Ludwig to bail him out!"

"Feliciano's usually in Hufflepuff, followed by Slytherin," Wizard Arthur said.

They discussed Sorting results for the other Nations. Apparently Antonio and Lovino were often in Hufflepuff, Feliks teetered between Ravenclaw and Slytherin (and once he was in Gryffindor, too, but that was probably an outlier), Gilbert was almost unanimously in Slytherin, Roderich and Elisabeta were often in Ravenclaw, and Nataliya was also unanimously in Slytherin.

Wizard Arthur then started to talk about popular plotlines. "Like we've said before, one of the most popular storylines is a Nation caring for baby Harry Potter, which, as you know, is a bad idea considering the importance of his mother's charm. Another popular plotline is that of a Nation teaching at Hogwarts. Usually it's me, and I usually teach Defence Against the Dark Arts." He paused. "You do know I dabble in the Dark Arts, right?" he asked.

"Summoning Russia wasn't that Dark," Anita Khok said, pouting.

"I was trying to summon the ultimate evil," Wizard Arthur replied.

"So you're saying that Ivan is the ultimate evil?" Loki asked, cackling. "Excellent."

"Says the demon," Wizard Arthur muttered, coughing.

* * *

"Bad news," Agent Eledhwen Elerossiel reported.

"Of course," Mr. Hugh replied, looking up from his papers. "Make it quick; I've got to check up on the kid."

"Oh, yes, how is Takara's pregnancy?" Eledhwen asked interestedly.

"Smooth, like any self-respecting Suvian pregnancy," Mr. Hugh muttered. "Now, what bad news do you have for me?"

Eledhwen harrumphed as she straightened Mr. Hugh's papers and arranged his folders in rainbow order. "Oh, for Eru's sake, sit up and stop muttering!"

"You sound like a grumpy middle-aged housewife rebuking her son," Mr. Hugh remarked snidely, sitting up straight nonetheless.

"I've practiced on Liam Falls," Eledhwen replied casually. "His parents are DMSE&R Scientists."

"Maybe you can adopt my child, then," Mr. Hugh said breezily. "Anyways, back to the original topic."

"Yes, the bad news," Eledhwen said, her face immediately serious. "The Mary Sue Factories have divided up into two rival camps – the faction supporting my clone Lilith, and the faction still loyal to the Venomous Tentacula."

"And the arms race continues?"

"They still haven't gotten the Vambiolaria Bomb yet, but they're close," Eledhwen replied gravely. "I intend to further investigate the factories through infiltration, because I believe they are purposefully concealing information on the Vambiolaria Bomb from our probes."

"I see," Mr. Hugh sighed. "Are they still targeting us?"

"Yes," Eledhwen said seriously. "You have fixed the Crossover Plothole, I presume?"

"Yes, the last crossover characters have been sent home," Mr. Hugh mumbled. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Speak up. And yes, that was all. Expect my partner to brief you next time. _Navaer_."

When Eledhwen left, Mr. Hugh reached for the Remote Activator, wondering if he could pick it up without short-circuiting it. Hesitantly, he poked at the device, gingerly tapping in the coordinates.

The Remote Activator twitched. Mr. Hugh jumped back in shock, feeling the beginnings of a personality change.

Naturally, it was Mr. Allen who portalled into the Medical Ward, still looking slightly shocked.

* * *

"I missed it?" screeched Susanna Black-White, a ten-year old who apparently wrote several Hetalia crossovers before attending IAHF. "WHY DID I MISS THE CROSSOVER CLASS?"

"Calm down, Susanna," huffed Andrew Khok, Anita's little brother. "We all missed it. But it'll be here next semester!"

"In the meantime, you lot can lose your innocence," cackled Kitty as she walked past. "The Sexual Clarification Seminar's on the 19th!"

"What is that, exactly?" Andrew called.

"Sex Ed with Finland and Sweden!"

Over at the South American table, Taylor Drews-Garcia was joking about Tenterdenism, a term he picked up from Merka yesterday after History. Alexander sat next to him, looking slightly glum about his kimchi. All across the hall, pieces of spicy pickled cabbage flew in defence of either Koreapan or Kimchiburger.

"So, apparently you were some ugly, balding, bearded dude back in historical times, eh?" cackled Taylor, smirking at a blushing Charlie. "And conservative, too. I can't believe you were conservative."

"I wasn't ugly!" whined Charlie. "And my hair! My beautiful ginger locks of awesome!" He clutched at his head in horror.

"Hey, apparently he had a sense of moderation back then," joked Kriss, joining them in the taunting. "Moderation in work, perhaps, but pulling out all the stops regarding booze and whores!"

"No, get a load of this," snickered Megan, waving a piece of paper. "You wrote in 1876 that 'it has occurred to me that it would much facilitate business and save some time and trouble to the Heads of Departments if I were to set aside a time during the day which I could devote to interviews and the discussion with the Heads of Departments of important matters without being interrupted by routine work'. Is that all code for something?"

"Why, I believe it is!" Taylor crowed. "Of course, 'business' means 'sex', 'Heads of Departments' is 'Mr. Hugh', 'interviews and discussion' means 'sex in various positions', 'important matters' means 'getting some of Mr. Hugh's perky arse', and 'routine work' are 'other annoying people who insist on cockblocking important matters'."

"Oh, shut up!" Charlie remarked, but he was grinning sheepishly nonetheless.

"Why, naturally he set aside two hours in his workday for that, of course," Megan continued, still smirking like a cat with a mouse in its mouth. "Charlie, you're too much fun to make fun of."

"I noticed," the redhead replied, snickering at Alexander still struggling to recover from Taylor's 'code'.

"Tenterdenism," Kriss declared, "is a dusty affair not suited to the times and things we have to grapple with – which, as you know, is more code. Taylor, take it away."

Taylor grinned. "Well, 'dusty' obviously means 'lusty', 'not suited' means 'totally inappropriate to anyone else who hates the idea of Charlie getting some', the 'times and things' obviously refers to 'Mr. Hugh', and 'grapple' obviously meant 'fuck'. I mean, otherwise it doesn't make sense."

"The Church of Tenterdenism," chortled Charlie.

"Momma, puh-_lease_," snickered Megan. "Sign me up for that church."

Jennifer watched them laugh over at the North American table. "So, looking forward to the Rant on Rapetrucks?" she asked Merka, who sat across from her next to Sara Parker.

"Definitely," Merka replied, grinning. "How're things between you and Workbitch?"

"He's been busy helping Sealand with registration," Jennifer sighed. "But I'm probably going to visit him this weekend."

"Did you hear," Lucia piped up as she and Eva Danielson took seats next to Jennifer, "that the kid who was complaining about missing the Crossover classes –"

"Susanna Grey?" Jennifer asked.

"Black-White," Eva piped up. "She gets pissed at people who call her Grey. And she's even more innocent than..." she paused, trying to think of something innocent enough. After Chibitalia got corrupted, it wasn't easy to find a paragon of innocence. "Even more innocent than... uh... a sheltered virgin."

"You don't get any more innocent than sheltered virgins, silly," Lucia chided. "Anyways, that Black-White chick hates your boyfriend."

"Workbitch?" Jennifer asked, eyes narrowing. The mermaid nodded.

"Yup. Says she can't stand his name or his personality."

Jennifer gripped her fork threateningly. Merka cackled.

"Getting defensive, now are we?" the other USUK fangirl snickered. "Oh Jen, you're so clingy."

"Shut up, Merka!" Jennifer snapped, bright spots of colour appearing in her cheek. "If I catch that chick saying one bad thing about him, I'm going to..."

"Pull a Belarus and disembowel her with a spoon," finished Sara Parker, grinning. "I'll videotape it."

"You're not helping," Jennifer groaned.

* * *

Mr. Hugh (after Mr. Allen arrived at the Medical Ward, he had promptly dropped the pilot) entered Takara's room, taking his usual seat. Nurse Suzine stood at a distance, observing them and taking careful notes.

"So, how have you been?" Mr. Hugh asked Takara, smiling a little as he consulted his papers. "Emma's fine, right?"

"She's kicking," Takara replied, her face aglow with something that some sentimentalist would have labelled as the 'joy of motherhood'. "She always kicks really hard when you arrive; it's like she knows her daddy's here."

Mr. Hugh cringed as Takara started cooing at her baby bump, as if little Emma Victoria Fraser could actually hear her.

"I don't think Emma can hear you, nor does she know sufficient vocabulary to talk to me," he pointed out bluntly. Takara grinned.

"I know, but babies use body language to convey their needs, don't they?" she smirked. "Here, talk to Emma." And she took his hands and placed them on her baby bump. Mr. Hugh blushed slightly, feeling scandalised at having to touch her again.

But that look of scandal gave way to a shocked expression when he felt a fluttering kick against his hands. "Shit, it's alive," he exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Don't go about teaching Emma bad words," Takara pouted. "D'aw, here she goes again!" Another kick.

By the time Mr. Hugh left the Medical Ward, he was seriously dreading the due date.


	45. Fun, Fun, Fun, Fun

**Notes:** Wow, the influx of registration forms so far is amazing. I didn't know I had that many lurkers. Five more chapters (after this one) until the end of second semester, and then the third semester begins! I'm going to try to finish this story by summer break, because I'm going to be seriously busy over the summer doing an ambassador program and the prestigious creative writing summer school I squealed about last chapter.  
The deadline for third semester registration forms is Chapter Fifty, but several people can attest to my looseness with deadlines. So please, don't panic too much if you miss anything. Depending on my workload next year, I may or may not write a sequel. Just putting that thought out there.  
If you cannot read the Chinese characters in this chapter... I sadly have no idea how to counter that. *Hugh moment* I suppose using Google Translate will give you an idea, if you're that curious.

**Additional Disclaimer**: "Friday" belongs to Rebecca Black. Frankly, I'm glad to disclaim it.

* * *

**Part XX**

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday –"

"STOP THAT! NO! I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! MAKE IT STOP!"

"Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend –"

"MOMMA, PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY!"

The Black Plague had hit IAHF on (funnily enough) Friday, and already its devastation was widespread. People were curled up in the foetus position, clutching their ears as others found themselves forced to sing the song to no end.

"Ivan, I can't believe you showed them that video," Ludwig complained as a dazed Karen DuLay walked right past him, mumbling something about having cereal.

"Well, we talked about the Black Plague, didn't we?" Ivan tilted his head to the side, grinning. "It's all fitting, da?"

"Hey, guess what, Luddy?" Feliciano exclaimed, bouncing up to Ludwig and narrowly avoiding a collision with Mitsuki Horenake. "Ivan's video isn't all that bad!"

Ludwig goggled at his Italian friend. "Not all that bad?" he repeated slowly.

"Yeah!" Feliciano giggled. "You learn things from it! See, I learned that yesterday was Thursday, today is Friday, tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards!"

"Very good, da?" Ivan asked, patting Feliciano's shoulders. "You know your days of the week now!"

"Oh mein Gott," snapped Ludwig, rubbing his temples.

"And Alfred and Arthur are making a parody of it," Feliciano continued blithely. "They're almost done, I think!"

"No, we _are_ done," Arthur interjected, nonchalantly aiming a kick at a fangirl determined to jump on him from behind.

"Oompf! No! Iggy! Love me! Loooooove me!" screamed the fangirl (otherwise known as Sakura Crystal Kirkland, but that's irrelevant to the topic).

"Yeah! It's brilliant!" Alfred exclaimed, slinging an arm around Arthur's shoulder. The Briton shrugged it off. "Wanna hear?"

"Why not? It can't be worse than the original," Ludwig muttered.

Alfred and Arthur grinned identical evil grins before breaking into song:

"Nine a.m. on the day of the meeting, gotta wake up, gotta go downstairs!" they sang loudly.

"Gotta have a burger, gotta have a Big Mac!" added Alfred. "Look at my watch, oh no I'm late!"

"Ticking on and on, everybody's rushin'! Gotta get down to the meeting place!" Arthur added.

"Gotta take my seat – I see my friends!" Alfred crowed. "Artie's in the right seat; Kiku's in the left seat! Gotta make my mind up – which seat can I take?"

Arthur frowned. "Well, obviously it's the one still left, since you're _late_!"

Both of them broke into song again. "IT'S A WORLD MEETING, MEETING, GOTTA DO WORK AT MEETINGS! EVERYBODY'S LOOKING FORWARD TO THE MEETING, MEETING! NATIONS, NATIONS BICKERING AT WORLD MEETINGS! LOOKS LIKE WE'RE GETTING NOTHING DONE AT THIS MEETING! BICKERING, BICKERING –"

"DA!" Ivan exclaimed.

"BICKERING, BICKERING –"

"Ja," groaned Ludwig.

"FUN, FUN, FUN, FUN, LOOKING FORWARD TO THE MEETING'S END!"

Feliciano grinned toothily as Arthur crossed his arms and looked away and Alfred took a giant theatrical bow. "That was brilliant, ve! Do it again!"

"Nein!" Ludwig paused for a second. "Don't do it in front of me. I swear, if I hear this song again –"

"Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday," Feliciano sang.

"ARRRRRRRGH!" An angry German was a nasty German, indeed.

* * *

"We're having a final in this class, as expected," Mr. Allen snapped during 'What's In a Name' class. The students clutched their lists, which featured various alternate spellings for different characters. They were also expected to be able to name different countries in different languages, and everyone mixed up Russia and Germany in Chinese.

"Wait, so Germany's '德国', not '俄国', right?" Jodie Smith asked Hotaru, who nodded.

"Yeah, the 'de' part comes from 'Deutschland'," Hotaru replied. "It's like how in Japanese they call him 'Doitsu'."

"Where'd they get the 'euh' for Russia, then?" Sally Cruz wondered.

"Do I _look_ like a Chinese expert?"

"Well, you're the smartest at languages," Jodie pointed out, pouting. "Quick, quick, quiz me."

"Say 'France' in Chinese."

"Fffffff… '法国'."

"Spain."

"西班亚."

"America."

"美国."

"Australia."

"Fuck, I don't know that one!"

Rachael Wilkison snorted. "It's '澳大利亚'."

"Says the Aussie," Jodie grumbled.

Mr. Allen coughed loudly to get their attention. "Enough with the panicking and the last-minute quizzing. I will be handing out study guides for the final later. If you displease me between now and then, the study guide will be collected, graded, and given test credit. Your other teachers have told me that few of you use study guides, so…" he trailed off menacingly.

_Shit_, thought Jennifer. She rarely ever used her study guides.

Mr. Allen clapped. "Now," he said briskly. "To business! We are covering nicknames today. First, several of the Staff members will explain or debunk some of their more popular nicknames, and then we will demonstrate the importance of choosing tasteful nicknames. May I have the first guest speaker?"

The door opened and Toris Lorinatis entered. Some Lithuania fans cheered.

"Hello," Toris said sheepishly as he walked up to the podium. "I'm Toris Lorinatis – T-O-R-I-S, space, L-O-R-I-N-A-T-I-S. I thought I'd explain that quickly, since I found a Mochi called Laurinitis the other day. I represent Lithuania, spelled L-I-T-H-U-A-N-I-A in English."

He paused for a second or two. "One of my most common nicknames is 'Liet', something that my friend Feliks calls me pretty often. For those of you who are curious, 'Liet' comes from 'Lietuva', which is 'Lithuania' in Lithuanian. This is an appropriate nickname, since it comes from my native language, but I think that only those closest to me would ever use it – that would be Eduard, Raivis, Feliks, and Alfred, to name the ones who come first to mind." He paused again. "Oh, and don't spell Lithuania as 'Liethuania'. Either go with the English spelling or the Lithuanian spelling. Thank you."

"Thank _you_, Toris," said Mr. Allen smoothly. "Berwald, your turn."

Yuki-rin Øxenstierna squealed as Berwald entered the room and started writing on the board. When he was through, the message read:

_I am Berwald Øxenstierna. I represent Sweden. People sometimes call me Su-san, but that is a Japanese nickname. Its use should probably be limited to the Japanese fandom for that reason._

"Excellent, Berwald. May I have the next speaker?"

Arthur entered with his usual retinue of Mochis. "You all know who I am," he snapped. "First, let me list my nicknames –"

"Once again,_ rosbif_, the attention's gotten to your head," Francis called from the corridor.

"There's one of them: 'Rosbif'." Arthur wrote it on the board underneath Berwald's message. "Then there's 'Angliche', 'l'Angleterre', 'Eyebrows', 'Asa', and most importantly, 'Iggy'. But before I talk about those, I would also like to reaffirm that my name is not 'Clarkeland' or 'Kerkland' – I say the latter, because some people use the term 'Joker' to describe my relations with Alfred. Now that that's squared away, let's move on.

"Rosbif is a nickname for the English that comes from the dish commonly known as 'roast beef'. English kings have had a long tradition of importing French chefs –" he glared at the door, "and often ordered roast beef from the French. In fact, the term 'beef' comes from the French term 'bœuf'. The next two nicknames are also French as well –" another glare at the door, "since 'Angliche' is a general term for the English and 'l'Angleterre' is French for 'England'. Just in case Elisabeta didn't clarify in Geography – I represent England, and only _nominally_ the United Kingdom. The dub calls me Britain, but the Headmaster has affirmed the existences of Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. He has yet to create them, but he says they exist. And that design of Scotland that is making the rounds at certain Japanese picture websites is only a _fan_ interpretation. But back to the original topic. It's bad form to confuse me for the rest of the UK, so don't call me 'Grande-Bretagne'. I'll kill you for the Frog-speak alone."

Francis sniggered from outside, causing Arthur to glare daggers at the door for a third time.

"Next is 'Eyebrows', which is self-explanatory. 'Asa' comes from the Japanese pronunciation of my name. If you can speak English decently, do not call me 'Asa' or 'Asa-san'." He paused. "Now, let's talk about 'Iggy'."

The League of Extraordinary Anglophiles looked on with bated breath.

"The nickname 'Iggy' comes from 'Igirisu', which is Japanese for 'England'. By all means, only Kiku should be allowed to call me 'Iggy', because I'm pretty sure that Alfred wouldn't even know what 'Igirisu' means. Yet Alfred seems to be the one who calls me 'Iggy' in fanfiction all the time. There's a discrepancy there, no?"

"But 'Iggy' is such a cute name for you!" Sakura Crystal Kirkland protested. "Iggy-chan, I love you!"

"I'm _not_ a little girl, you imbecile," Arthur snapped. "Mind your honorifics, please. So, if you don't want to look like a total idiot, then only use 'Iggy' if you are writing your story in Japanese or if Kiku is using the nickname – but I don't think he would call me 'Iggy', so that's debatable."

"Thank you, Arthur," Mr. Allen remarked.

After several other Nations explained their nicknames, Mr. Allen had them stand in a line at the front of the room.

"All right. Let's get to work on why bad nicknames make bad writing even worse," the Course Coordinator instructed. "Do I have a volunteer from the Staff?"

Francis stepped forward.

Mr. Allen smirked before adopting a high-pitched falseletto. "Oh Francey-wancey, stay safe, all right? Don't get bombed by nasty Luddy-wuddy in your sleep tonight! Oh, ma petite Eiffel tower, do keep yourself clean, and –" he was quickly cut off by laughter from the other Nations. Francis's cheek colour had bypassed his pants' colour.

"Nasty Luddy-wuddy!" Gilbert snickered. "Awright, Mr. Allen, do me next!" The students sniggered.

"That's what Charlie said!" Megan called from the back row.

"Miss Megan, if you interrupt the class again you will be on lice duty for the Hong Kongese for a week," Mr. Allen said, his voice dropping low once more. "All right, Gilbert. Step up."

Gilbert strutted up to where Francis had been a few moments ago (the Frenchman was making sure that Arthur would never even consider using 'ma _petite_ Eiffel tower' with_ him_). "Gimme the goods, bro," the Prussian boasted. "Hit me with your best shot!"

"Gillycakes, oh my dear Prussie-poo, I love it when you conquer my five metres," simpered Mr. Allen. "Gilky-wilky, don't let big bad Hotty-Roddy beat you up! You're mine forever and ever and ever, my precious Gilchie-kins!" Gilbert by then was paler than the polar ice caps, as everyone else laughed at his expense.

Jennifer gasped for breath; next to her Merka was shaking with silent laughter. Mirablle and Luna's laughter stayed floating above their heads in sparkling Bled letters. Sabrina was amusedly whinnying (she almost sounded like a donkey, to be honest), and Akiko Arihima was twitching with laughter somewhere on the ceiling.

"Hotty… Roddy…" snorted Azure, her tail flickering wildly in amusement.

Ivan was next. "Oh my big-nosed Russian hunk of love, my precious Evie-kins! Are you ready for some fun, my red-hot Commie?"

Ivan laughed with everyone else. "I don't get nicknames that often, so it's fun to hear you make some up for me!" he said cheerily. "I'll make sure no one calls me 'Evie-kins' if they want to live, da?"

"Well, you're as cheerful as a poisoned sunflower, as always," Mr. Allen remarked drily. "Who's next?"

By the time the class was over, the students were struggling to catch their breath. Some of them were still laughing out in the hallway.

And then the Black Plague returned.

* * *

Exams loomed. The second semester students found themselves clustered in the library on Tuesday evening doing their review assignments for their History midterms (they weren't exactly midterms, since they weren't taken in the middle of the course, but the Staff called them midterms for lack of a better term). Granted, the exams were happening next week, but Ivan had laden them with a giant review packet.

"The Reformation!" cried Susanna Black-White. "I don't know anything about the Reformation!"

"Calm down and think about it rationally, then," reasoned Dorothy Brown. "Based on the name, what was the Protestant Reformation about?"

"I didn't learn any of this at school! I'm only ten years old!"

"Shizznibblets, you're younger than me!" squeaked Mariam Webb. "And you're the same age as Andrew!"

"Why on earth are ten-year-olds writing fanfiction anyways?" Alosio Guerra, who was of the legal drinking age in the United States, demanded, flapping his cherubic wings irritatedly.

"Well, I thought that it would provide sufficient practice for creative writing in general," Susanna mumbled. "And I can handle myself on the Internet, so I'm fine!"

"Ever been to 4chan?" one of the older students, Loki Shadow Reave, had strolled into the library and overheard the conversation.

"What's that?" Susanna asked.

"Oh, it's only the most trollish of trollish messageboards on the Internet, last time I checked," the Shadow demon said, cackling as she went to check out some books on Russian curses. "They're responsible for rule thirty-four."

"Rule thirty-four?" echoed Susanna, wallowing in innocence.

The older (in terms of age) students looked at each other and decided not to corrupt her just yet. "It'll all be clear on Saturday," Yumi suggested, her purple eyes shining mischievously.

"Yes, let's move back to the Protestant Reformation," agreed Dorothy, glaring at Loki as the demon left the library, whistling Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. "What can you tell by the name?"

"That there were protests and reform," Susanna said.

Dorothy nodded, tapping her cane against the ground. "Yes. During the Middle Ages, Europe was split into two forms of Christianity: Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox. Most of Western Europe was Roman Catholic – do you know what Catholicism is?"

"I'm not that stupid! It's a form of Christianity where the head of the church is the Pope!"

"Good. And what else makes the Catholic Church different from the Orthodox one?"

"The Catholic Church doesn't allow icon worshipping, but the Orthodox Church does. The Orthodox Church differs from country to country – there's a Greek Orthodox Church and a Russian Orthodox Church, for example – but the Catholic Church is international."

"What languages did each Church use?"

"Well, I know the Catholics use Latin, but I don't know about the Orthodox…"

"They used the common language, also known as the vernacular." Dorothy sighed and looked at her own notes. "Despite those differences, what are the similarities between the churches?"

"They're both Christian."

"Well, yes, and…?"

"And I don't know what else," replied Susanna, pouting.

"They both had seven sacraments and believed in transubstantiation." Dorothy watched Susanna's pout morph into a confused look. "The seven sacraments are simply life events: confirmation, baptism, penance, marriage, communion, holy orders, and anointing of the sick. During communion – you know what happens during communion, right?"

"Eh…" Susanna frowned. "I don't know…"

"Oh, come _on_!" snapped Lucas Arch, fluttering over to their table and adjusting his halo. "In communion, believers partake of the bread and wine of Christ, believing that doing so will bring them to salvation because the bread, representing Christ's body, and the wine, representing Christ's blood, will cleanse them of their sins!"

"Oh, look who dropped down from Heaven." Loki was back, curling up in mid-air and sneering at Lucas.

"Oh, look who came up from Hell," Lucas retorted, crossing himself. "Leave, demon, and corrupt this innocent child no more."

"That is _so_ overrated," Loki yawned. "What brings you here anyways, Mr. Holiness and Light? Confessed your sin of coveting Denmark onto paper?"

The angel blushed furiously. "It's none of your business, you vile worm!"

"Well, there are no secrets here, my dear overgrown bird. Kitty and Anita make sure of that."

"Please," Dorothy interjected, "take your divine bickering somewhere else, you two."

Angel and Shadow demon left the room, glaring fire and brimstone at each other.

The dark green-haired girl sighed once they were gone, turning back to Susanna. "Where were we?"

"Lucas defined communion, so what's transubstantial-whatever?" Susanna asked.

"Transubstantiation is the belief that during communion, the bread and wine used are magically turned into the body and blood of Jesus," Dorothy replied bluntly. "So, in 1054, the Great Schism divided Christians into these two factions. Now skip ahead five centuries or so to the beginnings of the Protestant Reformation. There are seven widely-accepted causes of the Reformation – Renaissance values like questioning and individualism, the printing press, the distance between Rome and Saxony, men like Martin Luther, the weakness of the Holy Roman Empire, the posting of the 95 theses on 31 October, 1517, and the weakened influence of the church."

"Okay…" Susanna frowned, but she was comparing Dorothy's lecture to her notes.

"At this time, the Catholic Church used the Vulgate Bible, which was written in Latin. It believed in three levels of afterlife: Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell. After death, people spent time in Purgatory purging themselves of their sins. The length of tenure was always undecided, so someone could probably spend forever in Purgatory, especially if they had been buried improperly. But after their time there, they usually went up to Heaven – unless their soul wasn't purged enough. Then they went to Hell."

"Sounds freaky," Susanna replied.

"I suppose. But as a clever fundraising idea, the Church decided to sell indulgences. Previously, indulgences were offered only to those who did good deeds. They're just pieces of paper that supposedly shorten a person's time in Purgatory. But people believed in them, since when the Church put them up for sale to get more money, they bought them readily."

"That's not very honest," muttered Susanna, pouting.

"The Church also allowed simony, pluralism, and absenteeism to go on, too. Simony was the purchase of a church position; pluralism was the practice of occupying more than one church position at a time; absenteeism was the result of pluralism and it was the clerical neglect of duties."

"So it's like going AWOL in the Church," chipped in Sidneh Stapler.

"Yes, pretty much," agreed Dorothy. "Before the sixteenth century, though, there had been people complaining about Church practices. Englishman John Wycliffe argued that the Church should be subordinate to the state, that salvation was a personal matter, that transubstantiation was false, and that the Pope has no authority over the Church. Bohemian Jan Huss agreed with him on everything except transubstantiation being false. His followers were a pain in the neck to the Holy Roman Empire."

"Poor Holy Roman Empire," Susanna mumbled.

"But back to the sixteenth century," Dorothy instructed. "A German lawyer-turned-monk named Martin Luther nailed a set of complaints to the church in Wittenberg, protesting against the sale of indulgences by Dominican friar Johan Tetzel. Those ninety-five theses sparked the Leipzig debate between Luther and Johan Eck. Eck challenged Luther on his acceptance of the Pope's authority. Luther said that the Pope was human and therefore carried no divine power – all the power came from the Scripture. Eck reported to Pope Leo X. Leo tried to get Luther to recant; Luther refused, so Leo excommunicated him. An excommunicated person cannot take communion in the Catholic Church."

"So Luther got kicked out of the Church?"

"Pretty much," agreed Dorothy. "But the Holy Roman Emperor decided to give him another chance. Luther was to be given a hearing at the Diet of Worms; he refused to recant then, as well. He was therefore declared a heretic and outlawed, but the Elector of Saxony, Prince Frederick, hid him and protected him from people who wanted to burn him at the stake. While in hiding, Luther delineated his beliefs, which are now the basis for Lutheranism. Lutherans believe they are saved by faith alone, that everyone could and should interpret the Bible for themselves, and that there is no need for priests since everyone can pray for him or herself. They also started the tradition of singing hymns in church."

"Did people believe him?"

"Well enough, I suppose, since in 1555 the Churches came to an agreement with the Peace of Augsburg. Lutheranism was recognised, and all the princes in the Holy Roman Empire could choose the religion of their subjects. If a prince becomes Lutheran, then all of his subjects were expected to do the same."

"Hey, Dorothy," called Alice Wang as she walked over from her table. "Explain to me the other beliefs that arose during this time, please."

"Um…" Dorothy consulted her notes. "That'd be Calvinism, Anabaptism, and Anglicanism, right?"

"Yeah, those," Alice said, taking a seat. "I know that John Calvin started Calvinism and that Henry the Eighth started Anglicanism because he wanted to marry Anne Boleyn, but what else?"

"Calvinists believe that at birth, God knows if a person is going to Heaven or to Hell. That's called predestination. Those selected to go to Heaven are called the Elect. However, people don't know who's in the Elect or not, so everyone tries to look and act as if they are going to heaven. They dedicate their life to honouring God and to follow three tests: to accept baptism and communion as the only two necessary sacraments, to publicly profess their faith, and to live an upright and moral life. John Calvin's beliefs were strongly influential in Geneva, Switzerland, so in the end the town became a theocracy. The Calvinist Church became the state, with elected officials called presbyteries."

"What about Anabaptism, then? It's got something to do with baptism, I know that."

"Anabaptists believe that the baptism one gets at birth was taken unwillingly, and that a person had to be baptised again at adulthood, and that the church and state should be totally separate. They were pacifists as well. Their unwillingness to serve in their state's army and their support for polygamy –"

"Are they Mormons?" Susanna asked innocently.

"No, that's completely different," Dorothy pointed out. "Mormonism came from America, at a much later date. Anyways, when an Anabaptist group took over the city of Münster, the local Protestants and Catholics joined forces to suppress them. The leaders of the group were tortured and hung in a cage from the church tower."

"So much for religion being a matter of peace and love," snickered Crystal Xu as she leaned in from the adjacent table.

"There were a lot of religious wars at this time," agreed Alice Wang. "Finally, Anglicanism. It supports the King of England as the head of the Church, right?"

"Makes me wonder what the Episcopalians see as their head Church over in the United States," Monochrome Cloud added. By now, Dorothy had amassed quite a group of listeners. "Since that's the name for Anglicanism over there."

"Well, Anglicanism may put the King or Queen of England as the head of the Church, but that church maintains its physical possessions like buildings, powers, and relics. The 1559 Act of Uniformity banned the Vulgate Bible and instituted the use of the Book of Common Prayer. A later Reformation Bill allowed ministers to marry, banned images, and allowed transubstantiation alongside consubstantiation."

"Believing –and yet not believing – that the bread and wine magically turn into Jesus's body and blood," snarked Enrique Escantara. "That's a lot of doublethink."

As the second semester students studied away, they could hear sounds of an epic battle between Heaven and Hell.

Or at least an epic battle between an Angel and a Shadow demon, aided and abetted by Alfred and Ivan, respectively.

It sufficed to say, no one got any sleep that night.


	46. A Very Uneventful St Patrick's Day

**Notes:** Once again, apologies to those who may be offended by mentions of current events. For the stuff on Libya, I used the_ Guardian_.

* * *

**Part XXI**

The first semester students were unnaturally sombre in History class on Wednesday, especially in light of what started last Friday – and it wasn't just the Black Plague.

"Kiku's all right, right?" Lucy Robinson-Honda demanded frantically as Arthur entered the room looking just as withdrawn and tired as the rest of them. "Feliciano told us yesterday that he was in the Hospital Wing."

"So were Australia and Taiwan," Rachael Wilkison pointed out sourly. "But I don't see anyone panicking over them."

"Everyone is fine," snapped Arthur. "We found the Headmaster on Saturday night. His office was trashed, but at least he's safe. Kiku is being tested for radiation levels right now. I would rather you turn your concern to his people instead of him."

"So many things happening this month," Lucia sniffled as Arthur began reviewing the Napoleonic Wars. "The civil war in Libya, protests in Iraq, Palestine, and Saudi Arabia… now the earthquake and tsunami in Japan…"

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Verdas," Arthur said loudly in the middle of a discussion about the Napoleonic Code, "but this is _not_ a Current Events class."

Lucia pouted, but she nodded nonetheless. No one really blamed her for worrying.

* * *

"What's the chart like now?" Gabriella Taveres asked Anita at lunch. The other girl grinned.

"Well, we've added on some new names, I guess," she replied, pulling out her pocket version of the chart and showing it to the other girl. "No one knows if Megan's in a relationship – I think she said she wants to be single again for a while, but she's still sleeping around. She's up to like twenty stickers now, and there are rumours that she has herpes."

"Herpes? I don't have herpes!" The alien girl had heard Anita. "Who started that rumour?"

"I don't remember, but people say that Taylor Drews-Garcia has herpes, too."

"Yeah, well, that's assuming that I slept with Taylor, and I haven't!"

"I don't know; you've slept with his ex, haven't you?"

"So what? Doesn't a condom solve everything?"

Anita turned bright red. "H-how am I supposed to know how effective those are? And my little brother's within earshot, too!"

Megan groaned and stalked away, muttering something about not having herpes under her breath.

"Great, but what _does_ she have?" Sara Parker asked over at the North American table, crossing her legs and looking uncomfortable.

Merka's eyes widened. "Why do you even care?" she wondered aloud. "I mean… oh, you're the twentieth sticker, aren't you?"

"That's a nice way to put it," the other girl remarked cattishly. "Hey, Jen. You're her roommate. Did she ever tell you…?"

"I don't know," Jennifer replied bluntly.

"Even if she didn't have them originally, she could have gotten them from someone else, I guess…" Merka said thoughtfully. She paused. "Why are we even talking about possible STIs that Megan has?"

"Because some chick at the Europe table brought it up and there are no secrets here?" Jennifer asked. "Why don't we talk about something else? Like turtles."

"I like turtles," Sara said randomly.

"Turtles are awkward," Kriss declared, doing the awkward turtle hand gesture.

"Why are turtles awkward?" Sara wondered, absentmindedly eating her pirozhki while dumping oodles of maple syrup (she had bribed Canadia to get her some from Matthew's room, and had barely escaped from the transaction with her life) onto her blini. Dinner was scheduled to be pelmeni and shashlyk, with a side of RusAme versus RusLiet.

"Because you like them," Kriss retorted.

"But I'm not awkward," Sara replied, still absentmindedly eating her stuffed buns with fish, onions, egg, and rice.

Jennifer looked thoughtful. "These buns remind me of the steamed buns we got at the local Asian supermarket," she said dreamily, half-remembering her trips there (and the free food on the weekends).

"Well, Russia and China had some cultural exchanges, I guess," Kriss remarked.

"Did you know pizza came from China?" Jennifer asked suddenly. "There are provinces in China that make these pizza-like flatbread things. Marco Polo could have brought it back to Italy with him."

"That's debatable," Kriss replied. "Since the Tuscan tribes of Northern Italy believed that pizza held the spirits of their dead ancestors."

"Flatbreads themselves have been in the Mediterranean since forever," Merka added.

"How did we get from talking about herpes to talking about pizza?" Sara demanded.

"I don't know, but we can always go back to talking about sex, if you want," Jennifer replied drily.

"Speaking of which, how is Workbitch?" snickered Merka. "You know…"

"I don't know," Jennifer repeated.

Kriss snorted. "Merk wants to know how good he is in bed. Maybe with his measurements, too."

"Do you honestly think I've measured Workbitch's penis?" Jennifer snapped, blushing.

"Well… hold out your hands, then."

"Why don't we move the discussion away from my personal life?"

"Just give us a gist!"

Jennifer huffed. "Fine." She held up her hands.

"Oh, _wow_."

* * *

"A stand down is not enough," Arthur complained to Alfred at the lunch meeting. Everyone was torn between the situation in the Middle East and the rapidly-worsening aftermath of the Japanese earthquake. "We need to impose something more. Like a no-fly zone."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Artie, do you even know how to start one? It's not just declaring that Gaddafi needs to get his planes down, it's _shooting_ them down. We have to destroy the Libyan air defences before we fly our planes in, so that our guys don't get shot down."

"No, you don't," retorted Arthur. "You tell them that 'this is a no-fly zone, we don't want you to fly here, and we will retaliate if you defy that'."

To everyone's surprise, Arthur and Francis seemed to be in agreement for once that meeting. While Alfred vacillated, Arthur and Francis sat in the corner making "bold and ambitious" proposals for Libya. Francis wanted to make sure the other Allies would endorse their plan before they carried it out; Arthur seemed determined to intervene no matter what (MI6 Arthur could probably attest to that, since he had been sent to Libya two Sundays ago to try to talk to the rebels. It didn't work). Ludwig just wanted his citizens out before the others came in.

Halfway through the meeting, Alfred conceded. "Fine, Artie, I'll help you with your no-fly zone," he said, causing the Briton to nod as if he had taken it for granted from the beginning. "But make sure you get the United Nations to agree –" he pointed to the old man sitting in the back, "and the others on the Security Council. Don't make it look as if I'm the one behind the idea – it was your idea, anyways."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Arthur replied waspishly. "Let's discuss the other responses, though – Francis, do you have the resolution drafted?"

"Oui," replied Francis, looking up briefly at the screens all around the meeting room. The other Nations were busy talking about sending in more humanitarian aid to Japan and the Middle East. "Keep a close eye on the screens trained on Libya. If there's more aerial bombing by Gaddafi's forces, we'll have more reasons for the other Allies to vote for our plan."

"Yes, I know Ivan and Yao will need to be pressured into not using their vetoes for this," Arthur sighed, patting Alfred's shoulder and walking over to Francis. "If everyone else supports it, those two are going to go defensive anyways. We need a clear reason for them to let us intervene."

"Sadiq's not too happy about the entire thing, but he's letting us get away with it anyways," Alfred called from his seat. The Turk was hovering behind him, nodding sullenly.

"Parfait, parfait," Francis replied. "Now, in my plan I've added in my boss's idea –we strike if Gaddafi uses chemical weapons or launches his own air strikes. That way, we are acting on the defensive instead of the offensive. The rebels seem to support us, anyways."

"Another point you might want to make," said Arthur as he took the resolution and read it, "is – cor, can't you write the damn thing in English instead of Frog-speak?"

"You can translate it, si tu veux," Francis huffed. "What was this important point that you wanted to make, Sourcils?"

"Fine. Anyways, you should point out that Gaddafi might be guilty of crimes against humanity. That gives us legal cover under the Geneva conventions."

Francis grinned. "Excellent," he cackled.

* * *

Later in the evening, Mr. Hugh received dispatches regarding a conflict of a different sort.

"The League is definitely divided, according to Ellie's notes," a dark-haired, green-eyed Agent noted as the Course Coordinator read the dispatches. "She's doing fine right now; right now she's at a factory called SparkleRainbowDreams Ltd. It's the rival of the one that her clone heads, so naturally it supports the Venomous Tentacula."

"Is it possible that they will wage civil war instead of attacking us, then?" Mr. Hugh asked, as the Agent adjusted her blood-red hair ribbon.

"I don't know. Yes, the tensions run high, but Ellie thinks that her clone's going to wage war on two fronts – an attack on this school and an attack on pro-Tentacula factories."

"Will the clone use the Schlieffen plan, then?" Mr. Hugh asked.

"Good question. We should ask Ellie about that." The ribboned Agent nodded, jotting the question down on her arm. "Wait, wasn't the Schlieffen plan the one in World War One where the Germans decided to try and take France before attacking Russia?"

"The very same. All of it was timed based on assumptions that the French would be easy to defeat and that the Russians would be slow to mobilise." Mr. Hugh paused. "Are we going to be France or Russia, then, if we go along with this analogy?"

"Probably France," the Agent replied. "No offence, but it'd be easier to take down a fledgling OFU than a rival faction of Mary Sue Factories."

"Your vote of confidence is extremely comforting to me, Christianne," Mr. Hugh deadpanned.

Christianne snickered. "I'm glad to hear it," she replied drily. "I shall be in contact with you later."

Mr. Hugh reread the dispatches after she left, frowning deeply.

* * *

Despite the hubhub outside of the IAHF campus, life still wore on for the students and Staff.

For example, on St. Patrick's Day, the school looked as if the night before a horde of insanely drunk Irish personifications had stampeded the school and trashed the place with green, white, and orange paint.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Holly Newell that morning as they sat down to an Irish breakfast of bacon rashers (Roksana gave Akiko hers), white pudding, soda bread, fried potato, and fried egg. The Royal Society of Tea Drinkers had their cups of Irish Breakfast tea, but the Coalition of Coffee Drinkers was denied Irish coffee. Considering that Irish coffee has whiskey in it, it was probably a good idea.

"Several Original Character Irish personifications paid Arthur a visit," Kitty replied as she walked past with her soda bread. "I don't think they're gone, though. There are noises coming from the Staff Section."

"They're probably still drunk and still duking it out with the Arthurs over Northern Ireland or something," sighed Violet-Hime (she had a strange appearance that reminded most people of the planet Jupiter – well, the planet Jupiter with violet hair and green eyes, of course). "It's like Bloody Sunday all over again!"

"Are you wearing green?" demanded Amanda Robinson as she entered the room with a leprechaun's hat. Several people cursed and immediately started looking for something green on their person. Kriss had taken a green marker and had written 'can't pinch me now; you mad?' on her arm with it.

Aside from that initial panic, the students of IAHF spent a very uneventful St. Patrick's Day. True to their word, the Alfreds had dyed Lake Eric green (the pirates were considering dying it Bled in revenge). Someone had been messing with Wizard Arthur's spell book again, resulting in rainbows and little bearded men running throughout the halls, springing upon unsuspecting students. Yes, even the rainbows ambushed students. Margaret Yao had a rather lurid bruise on her right knee from a particularly menacing rainbow that tripped her on her way to Platonic Love class.

"We're reviewing today for the finals next week," Aviator Alfred was drawling as poor Margaret limped into the classroom. "Here is your study guide for the test; if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me or Policeman Artie."

The class immediately began splitting up into groups to tackle the study guides. "List the characteristics of a bromance," read Ru Tsuna, "and explain why it is different from a romance."

"Well," began Isabella Mitchell, "isn't a bromance just a really deep friendship, usually between two guys?"

"It's usually the end product of male bonding, in that case, and the two people are so close that others think they're romantically involved," added Gabriella Taveres.

Alexander stared at his paper blankly, not remembering anything. Naturally he blamed the lack of inspiration on the teachers, but he didn't say so out loud. That would have had very painful consequences. After all, Emma Markowska had protested against Ivan's enthusiasm for describing historical pestilences in sickening detail, and she ended up helping Ivan teach his Mochis the difference between Mary Sue and fangirl – namely, that a fangirl was responsible for a Mary Sue and should therefore be treated the same way.

The Russian Mochis wielded water pipes just as adroitly as their namesake, it seemed.

"When did the term 'bromance' first come into use?" Rain Kayheart asked from a few seats away, absentmindedly drawing the German flag in hearts all over her paper.

"The 1990s, but the basis for one has been around since 300 BC," Alice Wang called from across the room.

"Why do they even care about when the word was first coined?" demanded Yuri Yamaguchi.

"Well, obviously," snapped Vesper Santos, "they're sticks in the mud."

"I'm sure there's a legitimate reason," Dorothy replied serenely, having already finished her study guide. Everyone chalked it up to her being related to Carolina Brown.

"Well, of course there is," Andy retorted. "If someone uses the term 'bromance' in something set before the 1990s, it would be an anachronism!"

"But since when do people care about that?" demanded the others.

"Since people started equating love with sex, so it became bad form to say you loved your fishing buddy," Andy replied waspishly, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Oi, Mr. Kirk, no smoking in the classroom," Policeman Arthur called.

* * *

The Irish Original Characters were gone the next day, and people tried to pretend that nothing ever happened. Except for, well, the lake being dyed Bled, of course.

"I am going to fail Shinbun's final," Jennifer complained in the middle of What's In a Name class. Mr. Allen had left the room, leaving Eraser and several Mochis to keep the peace. So far, Eraser had erased the mouths of Kiri Olaveja, sierra akoti, and Laurel Martin since they had been arguing loudly about their Lust Objects. Hotaru was taking a nap, so Arther had blobbed onto her in her sleep. Emmanuella Escatara was trying to convince Eraser to erase her horn. Azure was still trying to compose her Symphony of Love (she was on her hundredth draft, apparently) for Roderich.

"We're _all_ going to fail," groaned Alexandria Russell. "Well, all of us except for the Nerds."

"That's because we study," retorted Tori Troutman. Carolina Brown nodded, but she grinned over at Gregory Bob Walton as well.

The very quiet William Ofritas huffed and muttered something about him studying as well, despite not being in the Nerd Group. Alexandria debunked his complaint, claiming that anyone who bothered to study outside of last-minute cramming must be some form of nerd. War seemed to be brewing.

"Can we just shut up about it?" Anastasia Debby demanded, watching the Mochis bounce excitedly, sensing the increased tensions in the air. "Before we're all blobbed on and dragged to Auchwits or the Golag?"

"Why don't we think about something else?" Sara Parker asked sweetly. "Like, you know, the Sexual Clarification seminar tomorrow! Who's looking forward to that?"

"Iggy will forever be a virginal uke to me," Sakura declared. "Until I pop his cherry, of course –"

"Ew," chorused the others, but the anticipation remained.


	47. The Rant on Rapetrucks

**Warning:** Mentions of rape. Don't read if it triggers you.

* * *

**Part XXII**

"Welcome to Sexual Clarification, Part… which part are we on, Berwald?" Tino Väinämöinen asked on a reasonably warm Saturday morning, as the first semester students crowded into the lecture hall. Across the corridor, the second semester students were listening to Elisabeta Héderváry talk about the mechanics behind sexual intercourse.

"W'r' 'n p'rt thr'," Berwald replied, already setting up the presentation. "S'nc' w' c'vr'd y'r' 'nd h't 'n th' s'm' cl'ss."

"I see," Tino mumbled. "All right, then. Welcome to Sexual Clarification, Part Three: The Rant on Rapetrucks."

"Rapetrucks?" echoed Yuki-rin. "What's that, some kind of food?"

"Was my mustamakkara not delicious enough for you?" Tino asked innocently. "Since you're still hungry, it seems…"

"Er… I'm not hungry…" Yuki-rin mumbled. She had given the sparkly blood sausage a very wide berth that morning – she really didn't care to know which Sweden-targeting Mary Sues gave their blood for those sausages. No one wanted to know, except maybe the terminally curious.

"Oh, that's too bad; I was hoping to offer some mämmi to anyone who was hungry," Tino replied, holding up a bowl of what looked like… well, dog faeces. "It's a popular Easter dish at my house, and Easter's in a month or so. Anyways, let's define rapetruck, then, so that people like Miss Øxenstierna don't confuse them with edible objects."

"He's being really sarcastic this morning," Kriss whispered to Merka.

"Yeah, I wonder if someone put salt in his coffee or something," Merka whispered back.

Since none of the students knew that Tino and Berwald had been complaining about the odd noises coming from the sauna (they were always kept up at night listening to strange gurgling noises in there), they had no idea that the Finn was running on about two hours of sleep. A sleep-deprived Finn was a nasty Finn, no matter what.

That, and Alfred and Ivan had tracked mud all over the Staff Section with their 'First Dirt War of Spring' in the unholy hours of the morning. Ivan looked as if he had never seen dirt before in his life (considering that his house was in permafrost-covered Russia that was actually quite likely), and Yekaterina was already well on her way to exhausting the school's supply of cleaning materials to clear up after her little brother.

But back to the lecture. "Today we are going to cover common misportrayals of us Nations in fanfiction, with particular emphasis on smut fics," Tino was saying as Berwald pulled up their presentation, titled 'The Rant on Rapetrucks (And Other Badfic Characterisations)'. "First off, since it's been a long time since we've covered this topic, raise your hand if you've written a fanfic with a sex scene in it."

Several hands went up.

"Keep those hands up if the act was not consensual."

"Dub-con or non-con?" Sara Parker asked hesitantly.

"If there are any doubts about the validity of the consent, keep your hands up," Tino elucidated.

Some hands went down, other stayed up. Jennifer put her hand down – she had never written rape before, oh no! Rape was icky and she didn't like thinking about Arthur molesting Chibi Alfred!

"You've spent nearly two semesters at this school. Looking back, do you think that you handled the situation properly?"

Everyone looked accusingly at Sakura Crystal Kirkland, who grinned sheepishly but said nothing.

"And you do remember that rape is not an act of love, and a rape victim rarely falls in love with their rapist?" Tino directed that question pointedly at Sakura, who was still grinning sheepishly.

"It's still an interesting plot point?" she asked weakly.

"Granted, it is an interesting plot point, but if executed badly…" Tino glared. "I would suggest reading about _Stockholm_ Syndrome before you write anything about that. But we're not talking about that right now. We're talking about misportrayals. Before we begin, I would like to point out that some of us Hetalia characters are very different from our Nations in the real world. The reason why we teach you all of that history, though, is for those instances where canon doesn't have it cut and dry on how a character would react to a certain situation. History steps in for the canon occasionaly. History is not always the canon, but knowing history is key to understanding the satirical nature of our canon. That being said, if you are using a controversial character portrayal in your fanfic, make sure you can back it up with either canon or history. Not being able to do that makes you look like an idiot."

Berwald changed the slide.

"Characterisation," Tino read. "Characterisation is the set of personality traits and quirks that make each character unique. Taking a random amorphous blob and calling it 'Alfred F. Jones' or 'Francis Bonnefois' doesn't make them Alfred or Francis. What are some characteristics that make them unique from each other?"

"Alfred's bouncy and loud," Carolina Brown said immediately, "and can't read the atmosphere."

"Francis is refined and romantic," added Natashia Fernandez, "and wants everyone to know that he's a lover, not a fighter."

"Doesn't everyone already know that, since he's slept with everyone?" Hotaru asked blankly, yawning widely.

"Wrong. It never says at any time in the canon that Francis has slept with the entire cast, although it's extremely likely because of his characterisation," Tino said. "He's more likely to have seduced about a third."

"B't th't d'sn't m'k' h'm s'm' r'p'st," added Berwald.

"Yes, Francis likes sex, almost to the point of addiction, but that doesn't make him the serial rapist, or rapetruck, that some fanfics make him out to be. Francis does_ not_ think with his dick – how else did the French come up with all of those ideas regarding democratic governments, human rights, and political freedoms? He can be a manipulative bastard when he needs to be, but he is not a villain who must be destroyed in order to preserve the virtues of the rest of the cast. Like Miss Fernandez pointed out, he is a lover. Lovers don't rape their loved ones."

Berwald changed the slide to put in his own two cents. The next slide showed Francis and Alfred standing together, and it read:

_Even if Francis is manipulative, he would not toy with Alfred's emotions just as a 'fuck you' to Arthur during the American Revolution. If history is anything to go by, yes the French helped the Americans to get back at the British for winning the Seven Years' War. But in turn, the French were inspired by the success of this American Revolution to stage their own revolt against their monarchy. The treaty they signed with the Americans offered complete support under the condition that the Americans allow them to keep their current territories in North America. Considering the debt that the French racked up supporting the Americans, that was one of their least manipulative alliances yet_.

"Excellent point, Berwald," Tino muttered. "Let's talk about the other party in that treaty, then. Alfred. Alfred is, as previously pointed out, boisterous and dense. He can be a bit insensitive and rather mean to Matthew and Arthur, but ultimately his heart's in the right place. Alfred is not a sadist who victimises his little brother Matthew. Nor is he a moronic asshole who can't do anything to Arthur other than shatter his heart into tiny little pieces. He is also not a rapist – to be honest, no one here is canonically a rapist."

The corresponding slide also read: _Some stories about the atomic bombing of Japan and the subsequent occupation of Okinawa portray Alfred as a psychotic yandere who abuses a weepy, traumatised Kiku. Granted, the US military presence in Okinawa has led to rape and prostitution in the areas around the Marine base, but that doesn't mean that Alfred himself is a rapist. And how exactly are they friends now, if all of that trauma happened in the past? Yes, the United States bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki and killed thousands of people. But they also helped the Japanese rebuild their government and become more democratic. They are giving the Japanese humanitarian aid right now. If Alfred abused Kiku, all of the later, friendlier history would probably be impossible to depict in canon and fanfiction._

"And speaking of Japan," Tino added smoothly, "he is not a psychotic bastard who traumatically rapes everyone he knows. He may be liable to imperialistic urges, and he may be a merciless warrior due to the spirit of Bushido, but if he ever commits a wrong he is willing to die apologising for it."

Jennifer slid under her desk in mortification. She'd forgotten about that one story she had of Kiku during World War Two.

"But neither is Kiku a doormat, come to think of it," continued the Finn, as Berwald changed slides. "He is polite and hides his emotions, but that doesn't make him completely emotionless and therefore easy to trample over. He is not likely to give Arthur head just because Arthur told him to suck his dick."

There were some embarrassed snickers from people who were most likely guilty of writing something in that vein, but probably with a different Japan pairing.

"Sp'k'ng 'f 'Rth'r," Berwald coughed, "h' h's 'sk'd 's t' t'll y' th' h' 's n't s'm' bl'sh'ng v'rg'n'l 'k'."

"Iggy's not a what?" Sakura pouted.

"He's not a blushing virginal uke," Tino explained. "Oh, yes, speaking of virgins, the only two characters known to have confessed to their virginity are Feliciano and Ludwig, and we're pretty sure that Feliciano's lying. Ludwig – well, considering that Germany was created on the heels of the Franco-Prussian war and dove almost immediately into World War One afterwards, only to surface and go back for World War Two, it's rather understandable that he might not have had the time to get any. Other Nations… you'd have to have a good excuse for why they are virginal. Especially Yao. It's a bit hard to abstain for four thousand years."

"But virgins are just cuter to write, all teary-eyed and whimpering and blushing," simpered Sakura.

"That's not a good enough excuse for writing me or Arthur or anyone else as a blushing virgin. Moving on."

* * *

The instant he stepped into the Medical Ward, Mr. Allen felt a headache come on.

"To whom am I addressing?" Nurse Suzine asked him as he took his usual seat by Takara's bedside. The expectant mother, having gone through another personality dialysis, was looking very sickly and fatigued.

"Mr. Hugh," the Course Coordinator replied, squeezing Takara's hand reassuringly. "You said you had news?"

"Yes, and it may not be very good news," Nurse Suzine replied. "You do know that a normal pregnancy lasts nine months, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Hugh said, raising an eyebrow. "And this concerns us because…?"

"A normal Suvian pregnancy lasts shorter than that, usually due to a temporal distortion. However, the child usually comes out fully developed in a Suvian pregnancy, despite being premature by any other standard."

"And you are only telling me this now because…?"

"Takara is still going through her de-Glitterification process. That means that the Glitter necessary for a hitch-free Suvian pregnancy is still getting taken out. This may cause complications regarding the due date. The child may be born before nine months, like any other Suvian pregnancy, but it may suffer the consequences of a premature birth due to the decrease of Glitter levels prior to delivery."

"So Takara is almost guaranteed early delivery, but the foetus may not survive?"

"I wouldn't say that it wouldn't survive, just that it would face the same complications as a normal premature birth, only as a baby Mary Sue."

Mr. Hugh looked over at Takara. "Are we going to be able to respond to that situation, should it arise?" he asked, not sure if he was asking Takara or the nurse.

"My first question is," countered Nurse Suzine, "have you found suitable adoptive parents yet?"

Mr. Hugh blinked.

* * *

"So, now that we've covered what happens during a het sex scene, let's talk about yaoi and yuri sex scenes," Elisabeta Héderváry instructed as the younger students squirmed in their seats. The older students grinned at their discomfort.

Susanna Black-White seemed to be having the worst time of it, since she had been so freakishly pure-minded before. The same went for the other mermaid student on campus, Zariana-Sylvia Middleford. Not a lot of people pitied their corruption (Dorothy and Lucas did, but they were greatly outnumbered), since dispelling the mysticism behind sex was a good way to prevent adolescents from jumping each others' bones. The forbidden fruit was always the one that everyone wanted to bite, after all.

Lucas Arch harrumphed as Elisabeta started describing anal sex with obvious relish in her voice. Everyone could tell the Angel was miffed at Elisabeta's liberal ideas about sex and her obvious appreciation for two hot men getting it on. In fact, calling the Angel 'miffed' would be like saying that the Westboro Baptist Church was 'just a _little_ intolerant'.

"You know," he said after Elisabeta started listing dubious lubricants, "I don't think this seminar is appropriate for the younger students, and I would like to take them outside for the rest of class. All they needed to know was the act necessary for procreation – the proper way to have sex according to the –"

"Hush, Mr. Arch. If the lecture disturbs you, you are all too welcome to step outside. But if you do, there are several ticked off Danish Mochis that need to be oriented and I just _might_ consider offering you as their first target," Elisabeta replied sweetly.

"Well, that is simply disrespectful to one who delivers the word of –"

"I'm sorry, but when you signed that contract we took away your right to practice and preach religion in public – and don't think of this as something targeted at your religion, Mr. Arch, the same applies to all others. If you have a complaint, take it to Mr. Allen, but I think he's visiting the woman he impregnated out of wedlock right now." Elisabeta cackled at his surprised expression. "If the Hetalia canon does not explicitly talk about religion, then the closest we get to talking about it is how religion has affected our history through conflict and reform."

Lucas took his seat again, glowering with Righteous Anger ™. Elisabeta continued on blithely with her very graphic lecture.

"Now we will talk about cunnilingus, and the difference between the vagina and the clitoris…"

Susanna Black-White twitched. Andrew Khok grinned evilly. Zariana-Sylvia Middleford hid her face in her hands.

* * *

"How is the conservatory now?" Takara asked as Nurse Suzine left the room, leaving Mr. Hugh alone with her. "Are there flowers blooming?"

"The tulips and daffodils are beginning to unfurl," Mr. Hugh replied, absentmindedly patting Takara's stomach and feeling an odd jolt in his stomach every time the child moved. "It's really quite lovely right now."

"I wish that I could have seen it," Takara lamented. "When are the cherry blossoms going to bloom?"

"In a couple of weeks, I suspect," Mr. Hugh whispered. "There are buds on the branches already, and little sprouts of green."

"And the medicinal herbs are all kept tidy, right?"

"As well as we can keep them."

The door opened again, and Agent Christianne entered with Nurse Suzine, the former looking worried.

"Glaurung it, Eledhwen's been caught," the Agent said immediately, causing Mr. Hugh to turn around and look at her, startled.

"How?"

"The infiltrated factory mistook her for Lilith and arrested her. The cat's out of the bag, Hugh; Lilith identified her as a PPC Agent. We have to get her out of there before they tear her to pieces."

"And you haven't just gone ahead and charged the place because –"

"I just found out! I came back from my mission to receive the news from Otik! Everyone else is too busy with their own affairs, and I can't take down an entire factory by myself!"

"That would be an Extremely Bad Idea," agreed Nurse Suzine, "but since when have Agents decided not to do Extremely Bad Ideas?"

Mr. Hugh frowned. "You think I can help you take down a Mary Sue Factory?" he asked.

"Well…" Christianne paused. "How much do you know about handling weapons?"

"I can barely handle the Remote Activator."

"You're bloody useless," growled the Agent. "All I need is someone to accompany me to the Factory to retrieve Eledhwen, only using weapons in self-defence."

"I'll do it," Takara piped up.

"You're pregnant," Mr. Hugh and Nurse Suzine chorused.

"If pregnant Mary Sues can still fight and not damage the baby, then why can't I? I still have enough Glitter in my bloodstream to be counted as a Mary Sue."

"Do you even know how to handle a gun?"

"Remove the safety, aim it, and pull the trigger," Takara replied.

"That's not enough; you need to –" began Christianne, but she checked herself. "Fine. I'll take you along, but you better know how to defend yourself and your Speshul Cargo. I don't want you wimping out on me and acting as baggage for the trip, since it might take a while to find Eledhwen and get out of there."

"Takara, you should probably reconsider this," Nurse Suzine added.

Takara shook her head. "Look, I've been thinking about what got me in this situation in the first place. I compromised IAHF security by helping a Mary Sue. I want to atone for that, and if my death will save that Eledhwen person from exposing the PPC and inciting possible pre-emptive strikes against IAHF, then it'll be worth it."

"Cut the drama; we know you're in it for yourself," Christianne snapped. "Let's go."

* * *

**Notes:** On this side of things, I'm now pondering about my portrayal of Kiku in one of my other stories (the one about the invasion of British Malaya). There, I think he was frustrated and insanely jealous over Arthur and Alfred's apparent closeness at the expense of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, and he wanted to reassert himself. But this is just me trying to justify myself as usual, so… bleh. Definitely not one of my better stories. Call me a hypocrite if you'd like.


	48. Exams, Exams Everywhere

**Notes:** Quick clarification. It does say in canon that Feli's a virgin. But it also says that in heaven the lovers are Italian. I suppose they mean the chaste sort of lover, but either way there's a discrepancy between what Feli says and what he does. Maybe it's attributable to his rather clueless nature. Your mileage may vary.

Anyways, my fellow AP Euro-ers, how was the test? I loved how our proctor said we were never allowed to discuss the multiple choice questions with anyone (yup, take that to your grave, bro). And my first FRQ essay was one hundred percent bullshit. It's not even funny how I just pulled that essay out of some orifice that will henceforth be unnamed.

* * *

**Part XXIII**

"The United Nations supports our no-fly zone," Arthur reported to Francis, with Alfred tagging along behind them.

"Excellent," Francis cackled. He turned to look at Alfred. "And what does the hero think about all this?"

"It's awesome! We're finally going to help someone! Considering that we couldn't do anything to help the people in Darfur –"

"Oh yeah, Yao wanted the oil from Darfur," grumbled Arthur. "I really don't get him, sometimes."

"He might be strange to you since you colonised him by getting him high on opium," snickered Francis.

"That – bring it up, why don't you? The fans are wondering if I parented Hong Kong!"

"You _did_ take custody of him for a while there."

"Oh, hush!" Arthur glared. "It was absolutely necessary, for the sake of the Empire!"

"I'm sure if you hadn't shot the old man up on so much opium that he slips into a coma every five seconds, it wouldn't have been necessary to take Hong Kong into your custody!" Alfred exclaimed.

"You're one to talk, sending black ships into Japan to make friends with whales!"

Francis groaned. "Not this imperialism argument again!" he groaned.

"Shut up, Frog, Seychelles was _my_ territory!"

* * *

Monday came, and with it came the Language finals.

"I still can't believe that they debunked the Nazi Germany characterisation," whined Karen DuLay at breakfast, as everyone who had a Language final frantically skimmed their notes and quizzed each other on vocabulary. "I mean, he's badass enough –"

"He also had problems with his boss, so why would he even care about his boss's insane ideas?" Kiri Olaveja grumbled. "From all we can tell, he's doing it on orders, not out of willingness to obey those orders."

"And Prussia too!" Laurel Martin complained. "I can't believe people portray him as a troll or as Germany's dark side during World War Two!"

"I didn't know that most of the Nazi resistance groups came from ex-Prussian territories!" Kiri exclaimed. "And really, when you think about it, most people killed by Hitler during World War Two were _German_."

Across the 'Atlantic Ocean', Jennifer was reviewing key phrases and grammar tenses, wincing to herself. Kriss was quizzing herself on Japanese; Merka was muttering something to the tune of Yankee Doodle to herself.

"What are you singing?" Sara Parker demanded across the table, looking up from her soft-boiled eggs and bread rolls.

"A memorisation tip for the words that take être in the passé composé," Merka replied, before lapsing back into song.

"You do know that 'rentrer' is not spelled 'rentre' unless it's… uh, conjugated, right?" Jennifer asked.

"I'll try to remember," Merka replied.

When she went to French class, an evilly-grinning Francis greeted her with a monstrous stack of papers.

"Bienvenue, bienvenue," he said cheerily as the other students took their seats. "Nous allons passer un examen aujourd'hui. Il est très difficile. If you fail, you will have to face my displeasure."

The students looked at each other nervously, not quite sure if they wanted to know what 'displeasure' equated to.

"But that being said, let me run through the test quickly after we get them passed out. No cheating! Fransu, Françis, and Frankriech will make sure you regret it." The Frenchman quickly passed out the tests. "Regardez. Most of the test is multiple-choice, matching, and fill-in, but there are always extra words in the word bank and extra choices in the matching. Read the directions carefully and conjugate verbs if necessary. Over here is a sentence construction activity where you use the prompts given. Next to it is the last part of the test."

"An _essay_?" screamed Megan.

"Oui, et vous devez la faire en français." Francis paused to let the students marvel at his evilness. "Bonne chance. You have the rest of the period."

Merka looked at the first page. It sported a letter with corresponding questions, all of them in French. She groaned to herself and began to read.

* * *

"How was it?" Kriss asked Merka after class, hugging the USUK fangirl comfortingly.

"Terrible," Merka mumbled, her expression like that of a kicked puppy's. "Francis made us write an essay about how learning French increases our understanding of the French, and we couldn't even use a dictionary for it. How was your Japanese final?"

"I messed up on the hiragana and katakana charts," Kriss replied glumly. "And I think the only body parts I got right on the body part chart were 'mimi' and 'mayuge'."

"Was it in kanji or romaji?" asked Merka.

"Both," Kriss muttered. Jennifer chose that moment to appear. "How was German?"

"Worse than Hitler."

"So your German exam was worse than a man who masterminded the systematic, state-sponsored extermination of more than 11 million people?" Kriss asked.

"…Fine, put everything into perspective, why don't you?"

"I'm just saying, that's got to be one evil, twisted test," Kriss remarked.

Jennifer huffed. "Okay, so it's not Hitler-level evil. But still, I bet Ludwig wrote the test to be extra evil."

Merka whistled. "That_ would _be evil."

They headed down to the cafeteria, where several varieties of potatoes greeted them. There were mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes, and fried potatoes, all with generous tubs of ketchup and mayonnaise. There was also quite a selection of sausages, accompanied by mustard.

"If that's lunch, then I suspect the Germany pairings are fighting at dinner today," Jennifer remarked as she piled her plate with mashed and fried potatoes with a couple of sausages on the side.

"Oh, lovely," deadpanned Kriss. They took their usual seats, as other students began to arrive. Karen DuLay took one look at the potatoes and sausage and fainted dead away.

"I've never seen a reaction to German cuisine like that before," Merka said, pointing her fork at the passed-out Ludwig fangirl. Karin Guarez and Tori Troutman tried to get Karen's body out of the way, but the fangirl woke up when they accidentally dropped her and pushed them away in her mad scramble for the food.

"She's up to how many batches of cookies now?" Kriss wondered, as Merka fed her a bit of sausage off her fork.

"Nearing two hundred," piped up Kitty as she walked past with her food. "Hey, lovebirds. How's it going?"

Kriss and Merka immediately pretended that they didn't know each other, causing Jennifer to dive under the table with an overwhelming case of the giggles. Her mirth only increased when she saw Taylor Drews-Garcia and Charlie Tenterden drag a spluttering Franklin Livingston into the room, yelling something about him finally coming out of the closet.

"Well, you know it was about time!" cackled Kitty as she scribbled away at her notepad. "Congratulations on finding your way out of Narnia!"

"What does C.S. Lewis even have to do with it?" a red-faced Franklin demanded. Kitty only grinned wickedly.

"Now, the next person we have to out is Alexander," she noted cheerily.

"Hey, hey. Not every single guy at this school is gay, okay?" snapped Andy. "That falls under the same assumptions that you fangirls use for the Hetalia characters themselves."

"Well, usually when guys like an anime where the majority of the cast is male and ridiculously handsome…"

"Some of us are in it for the humour, you know."

"Well, I certainly hope no one's in here because they honestly think the stuff that happens here really happened in history," Karin Guarez said loudly. "I mean, I don't think Hitler and Mussolini sealed their Pact of Steel with a pinky swear, even if those things are legit."

"Admit it; it would have been funny if they did."

* * *

Tuesday morning heralded the early morning training session, as usual.

"Numbers!" barked Ludwig.

"One!" cried Feliciano.

"Two!" exclaimed Kiku.

The students would have yelled their numbers, too, but that would have taken a couple of hours out of their training session.

"Today we will be practicing the goose step!" barked Ludwig. "On my whistle, you will march once around the stadium. Turn your heads towards us when you pass. Failure to synchronise will result in the entire row being sent to break in some new Mochis."

"Yes, I do believe one named Herdervery appeared yesterday," Kiku added serenely, "and the older Mochis can always use the extra exercise."

"So make sure you don't get all out of step, okay?" added Feliciano, as Ludwig blew the whistle and the students began to march.

"I didn't know marching was this hard," Cristiana Moretti whispered to Jodie Smith in the row ahead of Jennifer. Leading the parade was Natashia's row; Natashia herself didn't seem to have that hard of a time marching to a rhythm. Other students who had been in marching band at their school fared similarly.

But the majority of the students had no idea how to turn, so Ludwig had to sic the Mochis on them at the first turn. By the end of training, Jennifer was covered in white globs of rice paste and crème and feeling like she ought to take a second shower.

Herdervery seemed to have taken a liking to Kitty and bounced after her into the girls' dorms. Carefully skirting by Prusia and Osterrech having a strange Mochi mating ritual (it almost looked like a mating dance, but it was hard for a rice blob to dance) beneath a nearby tree, Jennifer sludged her way across the lawn (startling a nest of baby Fluffy Mint Bunnies in a nearby bush; they latched onto her legs quite viciously) and staggered into the dorms behind Kriss and Merka. Ah, spring was definitely arriving, with all the flowers beginning to bloom and the butterflies beginning to take wing…

"YOU FROG! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" Chibi Arthur came charging through the crowd, bowling over Susanna Black-White and nearly avoiding being glomped by squealing Anglophiles. "GIMME MY EARS BACK! NOW!"

"You must admit," cackled Chibi Francis from up ahead, his colourful tunic flying out behind him like butterfly wings, "that the rabbit-boy look is actually quite nice on you, n'est-ce pas?"

Chibi Arthur chased him madly, green cloak and floppy rabbit ears waving in the spring breeze.

* * *

The Canon 101 exam (yet another cumulative midterm), however, could not be compared to butterfly wings or little rabbits.

"You have the entire class period to write three essays for this exam," Kiku said quietly. "They are all document-based questions."

Anyone who had ever heard of a document-based essay groaned.

"The first one is about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, also known as the Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Soviet Union," Kiku continued, as if he hadn't heard any groans.

"Ve, the second one's about the Russian kolkhoz," added Feliciano, trembling at the thought of being sent to one of them.

"The last one is about the Black Ships, Commodore Perry, and the Meiji Restoration," finished Kiku.

The documents consisted of the corresponding strip in the Hetalia comic, accompanied by historical documents about the event. In true DBQ style, the students had to group the historical documents into groups and use them to explain and analyse the comic. Somehow that seemed even harder than a normal DBQ.

"That was all bullshit, I say," groaned Jennifer when they finished and left the room. "There was more bullshit in those essays than in all of the bullfighting rings in Madrid."

"Sounds like my essays," Kriss remarked drily. "How did you group the first one?"

"Russian attitudes, German attitudes, and other Nations' attitudes," Jennifer replied immediately. "Kiku didn't like the idea of a Russo-German nonaggression pact, the Baltic States didn't want to get Russia mad…"

"Topicality, bro, it's _Soviet Union_," Megan pointed out.

"Topicality, my ass."

"Can I have a piece of that?"

"No."

The alien snickered and pranced off to bother Franklin. Jennifer rolled her eyes and looked over at Kriss and Merka.

"What did you do for the second one?" she asked.

"Oh, the kolkhoz one?" Kriss groaned. "I think I did 'what the propaganda said', 'what really happened', and 'Western opinions'."

"Sounds better than just farmers, government officials, and foreigners," Merka pointed out, squeezing her hand.

"The third essay, then," Jennifer muttered. "Groups for the third?"

"Japanese attitudes, American attitudes, other attitudes," replied Merka immediately. "Did you use the one that that Mary Crawford Fraser chick wrote?"

"Dude, she was there so many years after all of that stuff happened," groaned Kriss. "And what nationality was she?"

"I think she's British," Jennifer said, frowning, "but she kept on talking about Italy."

"British-Italian?" wondered Merka.

"Maybe," agreed Kriss. "But I didn't use her document. It was too confusing."

Jennifer nodded. "Looking forward to the other finals, then?" she asked.

The others shook their heads.

* * *

**Notes:** Topicality is a debate term that indicates that one of the teams is not sticking to the resolution (aka going off topic). Hopefully I can find the space in the plot to start an IAHF debate team, considering that there's a HetaMUN program in the fandom and all and I like giving out random useless information. If so, (and this is for any debate nerds reading this – yes, I'm looking at you, Megan) which format should the students do? It's either Congress, Parley, or Policy (it'd be funny watching them trying to read fast, lawl), since I suck at LD and PoFo's a mess.

Before anyone reports me to the College Board – those topics were _**NOT**_ my DBQ questions. I just ran through the Hetalia comic and selected three historical pieces.

Mary Crawford Fraser was Hugh Fraser's historical wife. Her parents were American, but she lived in Italy and had an English education. She was obsessed with Italy and Japan, if her writings are of any indication. Her brother was Francis Marion Crawford – yes, _the_ Francis Marion Crawford – and her other sister was Baroness Von Rabe (she married a Prussian, but they both spoke French, lolwhut).


	49. Ho Ho, Andy, and Midget

**Notes:** Happy Birthday to Hidekaz Himaruya! Without him, IAHF wouldn't exist because Hetalia wouldn't exist. Homage to the Headmaster!

**Additional Disclaimer:** "If You Were Gay" belongs to Avenue Q.

* * *

**Part XXIV**

Kiku may have been released from the Hospital Wing, but he didn't seem to be faring well. None of the other Staff members had ever seen him look so emotional or fatigued before.

"You're… fine… I hope?" Heracles asked with a sniffle as he arrived at the Japanese's door with a giant tureen of stifado. "I… made… some stew…"

"Oh, arigatou gozaimasu," Kiku muttered, letting him in. "You didn't have to trouble yourself."

"You seem… to be sicker… than me," Heracles mumbled, sneezing into the crook of his arm as he doled out some of the stew into a bowl for his Japanese friend.

"Maybe I ought to make you something in return, since your cold's getting pretty bad," Kiku offered, as he started eating the stifado. "This is actually pretty good."

"It's… rather… rustic," replied Heracles lazily, yawning a little as he took a seat by Kiku's bedside. "Every… family… makes it… differently…" As he said that, his cat Tama slunk into the room and hopped onto his head.

"I see," Kiku began to say, but Heracles was already asleep with Tama nuzzling his head.

After finishing his bowl of stew, Kiku covered the tureen and wrapped a blanket around his dozing Grecian friend before leaving the room. Tama bounced off Heracles' head and followed him out into the hallway.

"Fine, I'll get you some tuna," Kiku said as Tama stared up at him with hungry brown eyes. "But not now. I'm not feeling that good right now."

Tama nuzzled his leg. Kiku groaned, reaching down to pick up the black-and-white kitten. "What did you do now?" he asked, staring accusingly at his cat. "Did you steal England Cat's cream?"

Tama purred in a 'who, me?' way.

"Bad Tama," Kiku said firmly. "Forget about the tuna, then."

Tama mewed apologetically.

"Don't say sorry to me; say sorry to England Cat." Kiku wasn't quite sure when he had picked up the habit of talking to his pets, but he was sure that everyone else did the same. Especially Arthur – and a lot of_ his_ pets were invisible.

Pochi came trotting up, yipping at Tama. Kiku sighed, setting down the black-and-white kitten to pat his little Shiba dog. "Pochi, where have you been the past few days?"

Pochi barked, dropping a piece of cloth at Kiku's feet. The Japanese man picked it up, frowning.

"Biting fangirls, Pochi?" he asked. Pochi's tail wagged. Kiku sighed again, as he heard screams from far off. "It's Wednesday morning; do they really have to waste their time like this?"

Pochi tilted his head to the side as if to say 'beats me; they're fangirls'. Kiku nodded.

"I agree with you, Pochi. Let's go make sure they don't get into the Staff Section."

They headed towards the entrance to the Staff Section, but before they got there they were nearly bowled over by New Zealand and a herd of stampeding sheep. The fangirls – looked like a coalition of Anglophiles and America Adorers – were thundering down the hall towards the entrance, screaming about their respective Lust Objects.

"Um, Toto, please stop!" another voice screamed. Kiku and Pochi quickly flattened themselves against the wall as a giant elephant thundered through, quickly followed by a panicky Thailand.

Screams, trumpets, bleats – when the dust finally cleared, the fangirls were lying on the ground, knocked unconscious in their collision with Tito the elephant.

It was ridiculously easy to send them off to the Golag, then.

* * *

"Looks like Dana, Rinaldia Aria Winston Rivera, Charley Maytha and Yuri Yamaguchi aren't here today," remarked Ivan in History later in the morning, as the students filed in for their midterms with much trepidation. "I suppose they'll have to fail."

"That's not fair; they got trampled by New Zealand's sheep!" exclaimed Midori Harrison indignantly, as several angry trumpets blared.

"New Zealand rarely leaves the Staff Section, so I guess they fail for breaking school rules and trying to get into the Staff Section, then," Ivan replied cheerfully. "Okay! We're taking our midterm today. There are lots of extra seats available on the next train to Siberia if you fail!" He paused. "That, and I guess you might look forward to having Arthur teach you history next semester," he added thoughtfully.

"What's he gonna teach us about?" asked Izzy Kzaen.

"His Empire," replied Ivan. "And some other things too, like the Crimean War! You know, I really liked the Crimean War. It was fun to shoot at Arthur's Light Brigade from that hill. He charged the wrong guns!"

The students looked at each other nervously.

"And then there was the Russo-Japanese War… that wasn't too fun, I suppose. I really did think I would go unnoticed…" the Russian trailed off thoughtfully. "Oh well. The midterm is part multiple choice and part essay! For the essay, you have to write me a three-page essay summarising everything that happened in history between the Black Death and the French Revolution, highlighting important battles and ideas along the way. Relate the events to Hetalia; show how they affect us Nations."

The students groaned.

"No cheating, unless you want to meet Mr. Waterpipe!" added Ivan blithely. "You have the rest of the period, good luck!"

The time snailed by; by the end of the class people were complaining about the numbness in their hands. "Damn carpal tunnel!" whined Isabella Mitchell.

"Now, now, don't say that word," rebuked Lucas Arch.

"Shut up!" Isabella howled. "Stop babying me! My hand hurts!"

"But do you realise the inherent danger in damning someone?" the Angel asked.

"Cool story, bro," growled Enrique Escatara.

Their path to the cafeteria was suddenly obstructed by a kitten parade. Cats of every shape, size, and colour were racing down the hallway perpendicular to theirs. "What's going on?" Falaba Witch asked, peering after the frolicking felines.

Her question was quickly answered when Kiku Honda rushed past, clutching a tin of tuna to his chest. The cats chased him, mewing in protest as their quarry sprinted on.

"It's the last can of tuna in the school, and I can't let you have it!" the Japanese called, his voice fading into the distance.

* * *

"Jennifer?" Alexander Morris took a seat next to her in the library after dinner on Wednesday. The Asian Anglophile looked up from her book on investigative journalism (she had been nodding off right before he arrived).

"What is it?" she asked, frowning.

"Can we clear everything up between us?" he asked in response. "Since I kept on… getting the… well, feeling… that there's a lot of mixed signals between us. You know, things lost in translation."

"Yeah, are you gay?"

Alexander blinked. Well, that was pretty blunt.

"I don't know," he admitted, sighing a bit.

"Gay for Vance? Taylor? Charlie?"

"…I said I don't even know if I go that way," the Briton grumbled.

"Aw, come on!" snickered Jennifer. "If you were gay, that'd be okay! I mean 'cause hey! I'd like you anyway."

"You have a very unnatural and annoying habit of bursting into song, you know that?"

"Because you see, if it were me, I would feel free to say that I was gay – but I'm not gay," continued Jennifer.

"I thought the term was 'lesbian', to be honest."

"If you were queer, I'd still be here year after year, because you're dear to me!" By now the other occupants of the library were listening in, laughing at Alexander's rapidly growing blush. "And I know that you would accept me, too, if I told you today, 'hey, guess what? I'm gay!' – but I'm not gay."

"Jennifer, could you stop singing and listen? We need to get everything on the table here!" snapped Alexander, still very red in the face. "Who are you seeing right now? Why did we even break up in the first place? What the fuck is going on?"

Jennifer paused. "I'm not answering the first," she replied with a serious expression. "We broke up because I knew you wanted a breakup, but you were too polite to tell me. And I was getting supremely annoyed by your butt-buddy Vance. And we really didn't share any common interests."

"Common interests? Is that a fancy way to say 'I dumped you because you didn't like Hetalia'?"

"Sure, why not," huffed Jennifer. "And what the fuck is going on? I don't know what you mean by that, but you really ought to come out soon, before the monsters in that closet strangle you."

Alexander looked at her for a long time. "Right," he said after a moment. "I see."

"You have that resigned look," Jennifer noted suddenly. "Dropping out?"

"Yeah. I'm going to go to Mr. Allen and ask to drop out. I don't even like Hetalia in the first place, and I keep on getting harassed."

"Oh, come on, if you were gay –"

"Shut up!" Alexander crossed his arms and stood up. "You don't know what it's like, having Taylor and Charlie and the rest of the damn school staring at you! I hate having no secrets, I hate having all of this homework, and I hate getting blobbed on! I don't… I'm leaving this place, Jennifer."

Jennifer shrugged. "Cool story, bro," she replied. "Good luck trying to make your case with Mr. Allen."

"If I don't get to drop, I'll get myself expelled," the Briton nodded. "See you around."

And with that, he left the library.

* * *

"He dropped?" screamed Kriss as they entered the Current Events class for their finals. "He dropped out?"

"Yup," Taylor Drews-Garcia said, looking rather despondent. "Lucas Arch gets a whole room to himself now."

"But that's not fair," pouted Charlie Tenterden. "I want my own room, too! Ho-Ho won't let me put up my pictures of Mr. Hugh!"

Everyone stared at him. "You're still lusting after him?" demanded Emmanuella Escantara. "Man, you sure don't know how to take 'no' for an answer, like Karen DuLay."

"Shut up, Emmanuella! Everyone knows Ludwig's just in denial about his love for me!" Karen exclaimed petulantly.

"Yeah, and Mr. Hugh's just 'in denial' about his love for Charlie," muttered Jennifer sarcastically.

"He is!" Charlie whined, as Shinbun-kun arrived with the exam.

"Into the room!" the reporter chirped. "Let's get this over with!"

The Current Events exam turned out to be multiple-choice, asking questions about mass media and current events in general. Considering that few students seriously prepared, it was probably the easiest exam the students had taken.

"I think I actually passed that," Jennifer gloated as she traipsed out of the classroom with Kriss, Merka, and Kitty. Kitty, the de facto Queen of Gossip at IAHF, was trying to get more juicy tidbits out of Kriss regarding her past relationship with Alexander and her current one with Merka.

She wasn't having much luck, though.

"Come on, tell me! What was he like? Was he a good kisser?" Kitty demanded, grinning wickedly. "We need to figure out why he dropped, yeah? Did he leave because he broke your heart?"

"I don't even know why he left, since we haven't seen each other since forever," snapped Kriss, blushing.

"Pooh-pooh, fine. What about whenever you see him with Taylor? Were you jealous?"

Kriss snorted. "Jealous? More like 'itching to take pictures of them'," she muttered.

Kitty pouted. "You're a horrible interviewee," she grumbled. "Fine, what about you, Merka? How do you feel about Kriss?"

Merka goggled at her. "Wh-what? Since when was I a part of this?"

"Since two seconds ago, when Kriss wasn't giving me good enough information," Kitty giggled. "Do you know anything about Alexander's dropping out?"

"I do," Jennifer piped up as they entered the cafeteria. "He said he was being harassed."

"Harassed, by whom?" Taylor Drews-Garcia demanded.

"You," Jennifer replied.

"I didn't harass him!" Taylor looked shocked.

"Why didn't you take pictures?" demanded Kriss.

The second semester students looked suitably confused as they walked past, having come from the Platonic Love classroom. Some of them didn't even know who Alexander was.

"What's going on?" Holly Newell asked, pointing at the hubhub around Kitty and Taylor. Megan, who had passed her by on the way to the buffet line, stopped to enlighten her. Apparently there were two Megans at IAHF now, but it was easy to distinguish between them. Meghan August was less slutty, for one, and decidedly human.

But that was irrelevant. "Oh, just the usual dramallama. It's a long story, though, if you don't know anything about it," the alien said cheerily.

"Drama?" Holly asked, frowning, as Skye Pierce and Christine Blacke joined them. "Explain, then."

"What sort of rock have you been living under?" demanded Huskie as he (or she, or it) walked past with a platter piled with spring rolls.

"The rock of innocence," Christine Blacke retorted sarcastically. "Come on, tell us."

Megan coughed. "Okay, so I'm just going to summarise the drama as it stands right now," she said loudly, and everyone in the room turned to look at her.

"Need any visual aids?" Anita Khok called, pulling out her chart.

"Sure, bro, why not." Megan coughed again before launching into her summary. "At the beginning of this semester I was with Lucia Verdas, Mike Hawk was with Taylor Drews-Garcia, and Kriss and Merka weren't together. I think."

"Yeah, seems right," Lucia called from where she sat with Eva Danielson and Zariana-Sylvia Middleford.

"Okay, then I cheated on Luchie-poo with Andrew –"

"Which Andrew?" some people called.

"There's like, three Andrews," Andrew Khok pointed out.

"Andrew Ho, Andrew Kirk, and you," added Mariam Webb.

Megan furrowed her brow. "Fine, so we'll call Andrew Ho 'Ho-Ho' for the rest of the semester; Andrew Kirk will be 'Andy', and you can be 'midget' or something."

"Are we giving each other nicknames again?" Jennifer piped up. "I propose we rechristen you 'Whoreface'."

"Oh, shut up! You know what? I don't need your judgement!" sniffed Megan good-naturedly.

"Lovely, it's settled then." Jennifer shrugged. "Moving on, though. After you cheated on Lucia with Ho-ho…?"

"Luchie-poo found out and started making out with Merkity-derkity –"

"What?" Merka demanded. "Since when was I 'Merkity-derkity'?"

"I've been calling you that for the past semester and you didn't hear it?" gasped Megan in mock shock. "So Merkity-derkity and Luchie-poo started making out, and Krissy-kins got pissed off so she started snogging Oliver Twist –"

"Alexander, you mean," Jennifer cut in.

"He looks like Oliver Twist, shut up."

"Oliver Twist was skinny," Jennifer retorted.

"Oh snap," Sabrina cackled. "Burn, baby, burn!"

"TOPICALITY. Moving on. After that, Jennifoos here decided to hook up with Workbitch, whose name is a real boner-killer but never you mind. Merkity-derkity and Luchie-poo ended up in a relationship, ditto for Krissy-kins and Oliver Twist, and I started going out with Ho-Ho. That was at the Christmas party, remember?"

"I was wondering why people were making out all over the place," Scylla muttered.

"Anyways, that continued until Alexander ditched Kriss and Kriss and Merka started going out. Meanwhile, Taylor Drews-Garcia ditched Mike Hawk – whose name sounds like 'my cock', trololo – so Mike went out with Mars McMillan. Are the two of you still together?"

"Last time I noticed, yes," Mars snapped arrogantly.

"Sure, sure. Taylor then couldn't decide between Alexander and Franklin Mycroft Livingston, but Carolina Brown liked Franklin, too – speaking of which, Carolina, you and Dorothy should make it up to each other or something."

"I would, but she's been avoiding me," Dorothy pointed out.

"Wonder why," Megan yawned. "Carolina tried kissing Franklin, or so I heard, but Franklin didn't react so she got depressed and started hanging out with Gregory Bob Walton. Meanwhile, Taylor was hitting constantly on both Franklin and Alexander, and everyone started betting on them."

"Looks like anyone who bet on Taylor and Alexander going out needs to pay up," added Kitty. Arianna Borrel glowered.

"Franklin then came out of the closet on like… Tuesday or something," finished Megan. "Alexander dropped out today. So Taylor, which one shall you take?"

"Gee, I wonder," Taylor replied sarcastically. "Maybe I should settle for Mr. Hugh –"

"HEY! HANDS OFF, HE'S MINE!" screeched Charlie Tenterden. "Although I won't protest to a threesome –"

"Too much information," snapped Lucas Arch. "Off to lunch, all of you."

"Who died and made you God?" retorted Loki Shadow Reave.

Kitty nudged Anita and pointed over at the Angel and Shadow demon, grinning. Anita snickered, making a note of it on her chart.

"There's nothing hotter than hate sex between Hell and Heaven, oho," snickered Kitty.

* * *

Takara paused as she tiptoed down a sparkly pink hallway, her gun at the ready. She didn't want to shoot, but she didn't trust her already frayed nerves.

Eledhwen had been transported from the SparkleRainbowDreams factory to her clone's factory. Lilith was purportedly keeping her in a high-security cell. She was also going to give the_ elleth _a front-row seat to the attack on IAHF before executing her.

Naturally, that gave Christianne and Takara quite some time to rescue her, because had Lilith read the Evil Overlord List she would have known better than to do that. She probably should also have made the air ducts too small to crawl through, since Christianne was in one right now.

"Hey, Takara!" a voice called, nearly startling the young woman into pulling the trigger. On second thought, she should have, because that Mary Sue, Alexandra Bonnefoy, was standing there in her pink-haired, rainbow-eyed, cat-eared glory. "What brings you here, man?"

Takara blinked, paralysed with shock.

"Hi," she said after a moment, her voice sounding very small. "H-how are you?"


	50. Suvian Overheated Cerebrum Syndrome

**Notes:** Registration for third semester will close next chapter.

* * *

**Part XXV**

"The Crossover exam wasn't too bad. Could have been worse, I suppose," Carolina Brown mused, partly to herself and partly to a quiet Gregory Bob Walton sitting next to her in the library. "How was it for you?"

"Fine," he replied, his voice disinterested.

"Just that?" Carolina asked, crossing her arms. "Well, are you prepared for the What's In a Name test tomorrow?"

"I suppose," Gregory mumbled.

Carolina huffed, looking away. She always had the idea that men in glasses often looked smarter than their peers. Same went for men in suits, but that was irrelevant to her. Either way, she was feeling a bit disappointed in Gregory for not measuring up to her standards.

Or was that disappointment in herself for acting so differently? Dorothy still wasn't speaking to her, and she wasn't about to change that. Carolina knew Dorothy was disappointed. She wasn't about to let her sister know she was disappointed in herself as well. If there was anything that Carolina hated more than disappointing her sister, it was looking weak.

"Do you want to review the country names in different languages?" she asked after a moment.

"Yeah, sure, why not," Gregory muttered.

"Could you speak up?"

"Don't feel like it."

"Could you talk in a complete sentence?"

"Too lazy."

"Gregory!" Carolina glared. "I have expectations, you know!"

"That's nice, Carol."

"You could be a little more – oh, fuck this." Obviously incensed, Carolina stood up, gathered her books, and stormed out of the library. Tears threatened to cloud her vision as she headed down the hallway, and she didn't bother to look where she was going until –

"Carol, watch where you're going, please," Dorothy reprimanded. "You're about to run into a wall."

Carolina blinked, looked up, and stared at her sister as if she had never seen the other girl before. "Oh, hello," she said dazedly. "What do you want?"

"Is there something wrong, Carol?" Dorothy asked. "You know you can tell me, right?"

"I thought we weren't speaking," Carolina mumbled.

"But you look like you're crying. And I'm perfectly willing to talk to you again, but you've been obstinately avoiding me."

"That's because I can handle my problems on my own," Carolina replied stiffly.

Dorothy frowned. "Really, Carol? Come on, you don't have to keep on shouldering your problems just so you don't look weak to me. I'm your sister. We're supposed to be confidantes."

At that, Carolina sniffled before running into her sister's embrace, books and all. "I'm sorry," she bawled, "for avoiding you, for doing everything. And I don't want to look weak in front of you, but all of this has been bothering me since forever…"

"I can tell," Dorothy replied smoothly. "Come on, let's get some cocoa and you can tell me about it somewhere else."

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Alexandra Bonnefoy asked, having dragged Takara into her room and plied her with Water. Water was very different from water; Water had Glitter in it. Takara realised suddenly that she craved pickles dipped in Water; the very thought made her cringe.

She pretended to sip from the sparkly pink goblet, watching the cat girl warily as she did so. Alexandra grinned at her as she provocatively ate a strawberry and then skipped over to a window, waving at something outside.

"What are you waving at?" Takara asked, choosing to ignore the Mary Sue's previous question.

"My puppy and kitty, of course! The puppy's name is Darling Diamonds, he's part wiener dog! Isn't he so kawaii desu?"

Takara paused, cringing again in sympathy for the poor puppy. "Yeah, sure. And the cat?"

"Oh, her name's Kuraunmiton! Isn't that like the cutest name ever?" Alexandra did a stupid-looking pirouette. "She's so kawaii kawaii sugoi desuuuu!"

Takara winced again. That poor cat, saddled with such a horrid name and owner… "Yes, she's cute," she repeated, despite not having seen the unfortunate feline.

"I know right? I love nekos! It's why I have neko mimi, desu!"

Takara was tempted to say something scathing about Alexandra's ear-burning weaboo-speak, but she held her tongue. The Mary Sue giggled and turned away, flouncing over to her and perching on the arm of her chair.

"So, you totally haven't told me what happened to you after you used my Aura, Taytay? Did he fall in love with you?"

"If you equate physical attraction to love, sure," Takara replied stiffly, gesturing vaguely to her baby bump. She was rapidly approaching the end of her fifth month, and the child was developing alarmingly fast. Nurse Suzine's predictions about the due date fluctuated between May, June, and July – the last trimester.

"Well, duh! I mean, someday I'm totally gonna get my Iggy-poo to fall for me! And maybe America-baka will join us for a steamy hot threesome and I'll get to experience the joys of motherhood like you! Gods, I'm so jealous of you!"

"You are?" echoed Takara vaguely, still abstaining from drinking that Glitter-infested Water.

"Yup!" giggled Alexandra, sounding like a chipmunk on helium, "I'm so jealous of you, Taytay! You're gonna be a mummy and you're gonna have a beautiful baby girl and she'll be so pretty and kawaii desu!"

Takara decided that telling Alexandra that she was giving Emma up for adoption wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do. "That's nice," she repeated, feeling like a broken tape record.

"But what about the daddy? Is he still there? Did he name her yet?" Alexandra patted her tummy, causing Takara to cringe again.

"He drops by occasionally," Takara replied vaguely. "Since he's busy, you know. And we named her Emma."

"Aw, that's such a plain Jane name! Ahahaha, I rhymed! Anyways, you should have named her after me or something!"

"Hm." Takara bit her lip, feeling the gun in her pocket. It wasn't exactly the safest place to put it, but she had no other choice. "But Alexandra's already a popular name in the father's family." That was a lie. _Alexander_ was a popular name in the Fraser clan, but not Alexandra. Frasers seemed to have a tradition of naming their boys Hugh, John, James, Simon, Alexander, or Charles – but no one paid attention to the girls' names.

"Pooh-pooh. This one's a _special_ Alexandra," pouted Alexandra. "Anyways, what brings you here to my place anyways?"

"Your place? I thought you worked for Lilith," Takara mumbled. "My partner said so."

"Your partner?" echoed Alexandra. "Who…?"

"Can't say her name," Takara replied. "But you do work for Lilith, right?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"This is Lilith's factory, right? I'm looking for a friend," Takara persisted.

"I'm…" Alexandra paused, her face paling. "You're looking for the PPC Agent, aren't you?"

Takara blinked. "Agent Eledhwen, yeah," she said.

That got Alexandra jumping up, her rainbow-coloured left eye flashing. "You can't have her!" she screeched, all illusions of niceness and purity gone. "She's a bad person! She's been spying on us for the PPC and that IAHF place! It's her fault that they know about the Glitter Bombs and stuff! She's getting in the way of my happily ever after with Iggy-kins and _I won't let you have her_!" Saying that, the petulant Mary Sue stamped her perfect little feet, crying, "Never, never, _never_! I won't ever let you have her!"

"Calm down, Alexandra!" exclaimed Takara, jumping to her feet. "Maybe you can see it from our side of the argument –"

"No!" screamed Alexandra. "IGGY-POO IS MINE! _MINE_! MY OWN! MY _PRECIOUS_!"

Takara backed away, groping for the doorknob behind her. As she did so, Alexandra started destroying parts of her room with some strange rainbow-coloured beams that shot from her eyes. Apparently the magic of friendship gave one laser vision.

"JUST WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" Alexandra hollered as Takara found the doorknob. She shot a beam at Takara; the young woman ducked it and it shot through the door, burning through the sparkly faux mahogany material. Takara took the opportunity to escape the room, hearing the sound of barking and hissing from outside.

* * *

Friday heralded the final exams of the semester; the students were looking forward to the Spring Break afterwards. Spring Break went for a week, ending in April. A Spring Dance was scheduled for the end of April, around the time of the highly-anticipated Royal Wedding.

Well, highly-anticipated for the Anglophiles and the Arthurs, although the Arthurs were admittedly more interested in the scandals that would result from the marriage. Kate Middleton had been predicted to become the next Diana for a _reason_, after all.

The second semester students trudged out of the Geography classroom after their finals, some of them clutching atlases and looking up certain countries.

"Damn it, I thought Uganda was in South America!" screamed KyAnna, thudding her head against her atlas.

"Obviously you've confused it for Uruguay," replied Cassandra Thibaud.

"Shut up! I probably could have remembered if Elisabeta had taught it better!"

The ninja-zombie student, Sam Smith, snickered something about studying. KyAnna glared at her.

"Shut up before I headshot you!"

"Now, now, there's no need to make people shut up," chided Lucas Arch, ever the moral compass of the students. "Nor is there any need to headshot them."

The students groaned. Lucas Arch had made himself decidedly unpopular amongst them for acting oh-so-very holier than thou. The only person who hung out with him regularly was Susanna Black-White and admittedly not a lot of people liked her either.

"Shut up, Lucas," Mars McMillan sneered. "Go play with your little girlfriend."

"Susanna is not my girlfriend. She is simply my best friend. She is also too young to be thought of in such an immoral fashion," replied Lucas pompously.

"Yeah, I'm only ten," Susanna replied as she looked up Laos in her atlas. "Lucas, Laos is in Asia, right?"

"Southwest Asia," replied Lucas.

"South_east _Asia, stupid," Crystal Xu grumbled.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "_Excuse me_? Did you just call me stupid? Me, the Messenger of –"

"Cool story, bro!" giggled KyAnna, flipping him the bird. She was a Dark angel, which was apparently as different from the garden variety Angel as apples were to peas. Lucas, being a garden variety Angel, wrinkled his nose at her disdainfully, as if she had been Satan in snake form and he had just stepped on her.

"Come along, Susanna. We do not need these poor sinners to taint your soul any further," he replied loftily, fluttering away with the little girl. The other students looked at each other before breaking into laughter.

As divided as they could be, there _was_ still one thing other than Hetalia that united them.

* * *

Takara ducked into a nearby alcove as she heard the Mary Sue scream, "DARLING DIAMONDS, KURAUNMITON! _ATTACK_!" Moments later, the dachshund and tabby came streaking down the hall, shooting laser beams from their eyes as they looked about for her. Takara bit her lip. _Shit_.

As if they read her mind, the cat and dog looked up to see her. Takara willed herself to look as adorable as she could, smiling sheepishly and waving at them. "H-hey," she cooed, "here kitty, kitty, kitty."

Kuraunmiton mewed suspiciously. "I'm not going to hurt you," Takara simpered, as she used the remaining amounts of Glitter in her bloodstream to make herself as appealing to the Cute Animal Friends as possible. "I'm here to protect you. You know that crazy cat lady with the pink hair and rainbow eyes? She mistreats you by calling you horrible names. If you come with me, you'll get a new home, new names, and owners who won't insist on using you to fight for them."

Kuraunmiton and Darling Diamonds looked at each other. Finally, the dachshund barked and ran up to her, licking her hand. Takara smiled, patting the dog's head.

"Good doggie."Kuraunmiton mewed again and sniffed her hand. "Good kitty."

"There you are," someone suddenly growled, and Takara looked up to see Alexandra, seething with Righteous Anger ™. "What have you done to my pets?"

"I've convinced them that they're better off without you," replied Takara, standing up. "I was a fool to have fallen for your spell last semester. Your Aura caused my pregnancy, my exile, and my tarnished reputation. So…" she raised the gun, hands shaking. "Bye, Alexandra."

"You can't defeat me that easily!" squeaked Alexandra, suddenly glowing bright Urple. Takara shielded her eyes. "I'm invincible! I have the power of friendship and magic power on my side!"

"Deus ex machina," said Takara quietly to herself, but Alexandra heard her.

"What?" Alexandra demanded. "Was that an incantation? Are you putting a spell on me? You WITCH! I'll have you burned for this, you know!"

"_Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem_," Takara muttered. If Sabrina, Franklin, Eva, or anyone who was taking Latin had been there, they would have translated what she said as 'In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags'. But they weren't, so Alexandra was left to hyperventilate about the other's words.

"What are you saying? _What_? Tell me!" Alexandra clutched her head, as if she was in agony. "Aieee!"

That was the funny thing about conventional Mary Sues. Once faced with something that they deemed incomprehensible, their brains started heating up from overwork. This strange phenomenon, currently under investigation by the Department of Mary Sue Experiments and Research, was quite a sight to see. An afflicted Mary Sue would lose control of her Aura and all other necessary bodily functions, as her brain slowly melts and becomes little more than grey, white, and sparkly pink matter. The Scientists heading the investigation have tentatively dubbed it Suvian Overheated Cerebrum Syndrome, but the final name would definitely have a snarkier acronym.

Takara found herself witnessing Alexandra undergoing a spectacular case of SOCS. The random Latin was frying up Alexandra's brain at an alarming rate; her rainbow eyes were shooting lasers everywhere and… were those actually _sparklers _coming out of her head?

"Alexandra? What's going on?" Takara screamed, dropping the gun. "What the…!"

"SOCS?" the air vent above them opened, and Agent Christianne dropped down to take pictures of the spectacle. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her that in the good old days, children like her were left to die on windswept crags," Takara replied vaguely,"in Latin."

"Where'd you get _that_ phrase?"

"The Rome-Wall told that to his students a lot," Takara mumbled, shrugging. The fireworks were over moments later. "Let's go."

"Yes, I found Eledhwen's so-called 'high-security cell'. It's guarded by a Gary Stu." Christianne paused, cackling. "Doesn't the owner of this place know not to imprison people of one gender in cells guarded by the opposite gender?"

Takara shrugged again. "Oh, meet the late Alexandra's Cute Animal Friends. They apparently have laser vision. The dog's called Darling Diamonds and the cat's named Kuraunmiton."

Christianne cringed at the names. "We'll take them with us, I suppose, if you've… er… tamed them. We'll have to rename them, though."

Takara nodded, picking up the dachshund and the tabby. "I'll call the dachshund 'Tip' and the tabby 'Kura'."

"Sounds better than 'Darling Diamonds' and whatever the cat was named previously," replied Christianne, punching the coordinates to Eledhwen's cell into her Remote Activator. "Let's go."

* * *

"So, this is the chart at the end of the second semester," Kitty said proudly to Jennifer and Megan as they entered her room, asking to see the chart. "Jennifer, you're still with Workbitch, right?"

"I'm spending most of Spring Break with him," Jennifer replied vaguely, shrugging.

"Take pictures!" cackled Megan.

"Megan, who are you with right now? And how are the stickers coming along?"

"Not a lot of people can say they deflowered an Angel," Megan drawled, smirking. Kitty's eyebrows shot up. "Yup, Lucas is my twenty-fifth sticker!"

"Well, congratulations," Jennifer replied sarcastically. "I thought he was with the demon."

"It'd be hotter if Loki had gotten to him first, yeah," Kitty muttered, shrugging. "Pun not intended. Anyways, yeah, congratulations!" She drew a wavy arrow from MEGAN to LUCAS ARCH. "We have confirmation for Alexander dropping out?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said, shrugging. "I asked Workbitch about it. He said that Mr. Allen wasn't going to let him drop, but then Alexander did something ridiculously stupid."

"What did he do?" Megan and Kitty demanded in unison.

"He started hitting on Mr. Allen."

Megan snorted. Kitty screamed in happiness, clapping her hands.

"OH MY GOD, SO HE _WAS_ GAY! HE _WAS_! MY GAYDAR IS SO ACCURATE THAT IT'S SCARY!"

Jennifer snickered. "Sure, Kitty, sure. Anyways, Mr. Allen dropped him like a hot potato as soon as that happened."

"Did Workbitch tell you what happened exactly?" Kitty squealed, as Anita, Mariam, Yuki-rin, and Karen Sanghieh ran into the room curiously.

"Yeah. Apparently he started acting like Charlie, offering to suck him off –"

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE, WHY, HOW, AND _HUH_?" Yuki-rin Øxenstierna demanded.

"Alexander Morris dropped out of IAHF by hitting on Mr. Allen," Jennifer repeated, as a hysterical Kitty rolled around on the bed behind her.

"Scary," Anita muttered.

"Ahaha! I should patent my Gaydar and distribute it on the black market!" Kitty cackled as she gleefully rolled about. "Kitty Smith Brand Gaydar! Find out which one of your loved ones is in the closet! For a limited time offer, you can buy one and get one free!" Megan burst into hysterical laughter at that as well.

"I really like the irony in that," Anita added as the infectious laughter spread to Yuki-rin, Mariam, Karen Sanghieh, and several unsuspecting girls in the hallway. "Since he said that he was being harassed by Taylor and Charlie…"

"Yes, I know, an iron should have dropped from the ceiling and smushed his head flat," Jennifer replied. Pause. "I'm so punny."

"Yes, you are," deadpanned Anita. "Anyways, do you have any edits for our chart?"

Jennifer looked at the complex web of arrows on the chart, which now spanned across an entire wall. "I dunno," she replied after a moment. "Maybe…"

She walked to the window, looking out at the students enjoying the spring air outside. Pirate Arthur was pillaging Pirate Antonio's ship; some students were watching the spectacle. Others were running away from the Fluffy Mint Bunnies. Still others were avoiding the mating Mochis.

But Jennifer only had eyes for a couple sitting side-by-side on a bench near the lake. Taylor Drews-Garcia had one arm around Franklin Mycroft Livingston, and the bespectacled nerd didn't seem to mind. The moment was magical.

Until a sniggering Jennifer turned away and made an edit to the chart that caused Kitty to break into deafening squeals of happiness, that is. People crowding into the room saw the change and either squealed or groaned. Some of them finally gave up their belongings that they had put into the betting pool; Arianna Borrel grudgingly parted with her USUK doujin, grumbling.

At dinner, Franklin and Taylor were greeted with a fanfare of wolf-whistling, causing Franklin to blush furiously and nearly run out of the room again. Smirking to herself, Jennifer waved at Taylor from her seat at the North American table; Kriss took a picture of them.

There were never going to be secrets at IAHF. That was a given.

* * *

"Enfer ouais, ce sont des vacances du printemps," Francis cheered as he flopped down next to Arthur on the couch. Across from them in his favourite armchair sat Mr. Allen, looking very lost in thought.

"Thankfully. But we're not out of the woods yet," Arthur mused. "Not with the threat of a Mary Sue attack on this school." He looked over at Mr. Allen. "You okay?"

"Fine," Mr. Allen replied gruffly. "We've got the third semester enrolment lists finalised, I believe?"

"Yeah, Peter was talking about that," Tino Väinämöinen piped up, taking a seat on the coffee table. "What about the teaching schedules? Any seminars?"

"Feliks and Gilbert are thinking of teaming up to teach something they've dubbed 'Fabulosity and Awesomeness'," Mr. Allen said, using air quotes around the title. "GrammarBootCamp is also scheduled, as well as a seminar on the female Nations of Hetalia. Seychelles has been complaining about how everyone seems to hate her."

"Why do they do that? She's nice and knows how to make seafood dishes," Francis pointed out.

"It's probably because you and I fight over her at times," replied Arthur sullenly.

"Whatever it is, I really don't care to know," snapped Mr. Allen. "Howard the Spy's going to talk about the history of espionage… and I do have the teaching schedules written up. Would you like to see them?"

Arthur took the schedules from the Course Coordinator. "Peter's teaching?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Micronations history. I don't think he's going to get far," sighed Francis.

"Don't be such a downer," chided Tino. "There are so many micronations to talk about!"

"Feliciano's teaching Canon 101 to the older students next semester," noted Arthur. "I guess that won't be too bad, since all that's left are the strips without any historical backing."

"There's darker stuff, too," Francis noted. "Evolution of War?"

"Yes, talking about the development of weapons and offensive technology," replied Mr. Allen. "Or at least, that's what Kuro Kiku says he wants to teach. I wouldn't be surprised if he just tortures the students."

"Right. Comparative Governments, International Relations… Music, Yao's Original Character Workshop…" Arthur handed the schedule back. "Seems like we have our job cut out for us."

"Yes, and I have something else in mind, too," Mr. Allen murmured. "I've been collaborating with Tony on it."

"What?" Arthur demanded. "You've been talking to Alfred's alien?"

"Yes, since he can get the job done easily," replied Mr. Allen. "Let's just say that it's going to be a final exam for the older students, yeah?"

"What's going to happen?" Other Nations had perked up at the prospect of an evil plan. "What is it?"

Mr. Allen smirked before pulling a document out of a nearby plothole. "Gather around, then. The exam's going to take a lot of organising and extra planning…"

**END SEMESTER TWO**


	51. Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

**Notes:** Third trimester registration is now CLOSED. Without further ado, let's start the final leg of this fic.

* * *

**The International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction: Semester Three**

**Part I**

At the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction, every new semester brought in new faces, new secrets, and new additions to the ever growing chart of drama (painstakingly recorded by Kitty Smith and Anita Khok, accompanied by Anita's diabolically hyperactive sidekick Mariam Webb). That held true for most boarding schools and universities – gossip was a natural activity for the curious type of human known as the teenager, after all. It went double for the even more curious type of human known as the fangirl (or the fangirl's XY counterpart, the fanboy), since a fangirl had twice the amount of hormones pumping through her endocrine system than the average teenager. And that was saying something.

Of course, some denizens at IAHF weren't human – but they seemed to behave in humanoid ways, so they fell under the umbrella. However, all of that was tangential to the point that it was a new semester at IAHF.

It would also be the final semester for the first semester students, namely those who had been at the school _since_ the first semester. Amongst those included Jennifer Chang, who was sitting at her usual seat at the North American table in the cafeteria, eating her red bean porridge and xiao long buns without much comment.

"What are we going to do today?" her friend Kriss Kross asked from the seat across from her. Kriss was going out with their other friend, Jennifer Breigher. Everyone called her Merka – everyone except Megan, Jennifer's alien roommate. Megan insisted on calling Merka 'Merkity-derkity'; she had coined nicknames for nearly half of the population at IAHF. She had also slept with a fair number of those people.

"I was thinking that we could…" Merka trailed off before whispering the rest. Jennifer snickered, looking amusedly at Kriss's surprised expression.

"Shut up, Merk!" the Asakiku fangirl exclaimed, swatting good-naturedly at her.

"Come on! They don't call it the library of love for nothing!" exclaimed the USUK fangirl in response. Had it not been for their mutual Anglophilia, Merka and Kriss would probably never have become friends in the first place. USUK and Asakiku shippers often butted heads – but not as often as USUK and FrUK. Those two factions feuded like the English and the French on a regular basis.

"You know what?" asked Sidneh Stapler as she walked past with Sam Smith, the resident zombie ninja at IAHF. "I heard the new students are supposed to come today!"

"New students?" echoed Sam Smith. "Brains…"

"Yeah, brains," Sidneh muttered. "No, you can't have any."

"Blarrrgh." Sam stuck out her tongue at her.

But the news spread; the students found themselves anticipating the arrival of their peers.

"Comb your hair, Andrew Khok! You look like a slovenly mess!" snapped Lucas Arch, who was an Angel and therefore Holier than Thou™. So far he had spent his break instilling moral order into IAHF (a losing battle from the beginning, especially with Megan around – and he had, ironically enough, been one of Megan's, ahem, _customers_, too) and earning himself a fair number of critics from various students – even students from the Nerd Group, the elite and highly selective history buff club on campus. Some of the leading members of the Nerd Group were even considering setting up an entrance examination system.

But back to Lucas. He was now fussing over Susanna Black-White like a mother hen, even clucking slightly as he adjusted her green cap and combed her short blonde hair. Susanna and Andrew were the youngest in the school, but Susanna was already bragging to those who cared to listen that she was turning eleven in May.

No one really cared; the younger students tended to be snubbed by the older students. Especially the ones in their late teens; they seemed to think that the younger generations were getting worse and worse in taste. After all, any generation that condoned _Rebecca Black_…

But once again, that was tangential. Lucas, like a good angelic nanny, was marshalling the preteen students into orderly lines. Everyone else lolled around and ignored him, talking with their mouths full of breakfast and anticipating the arrival of the newcomers.

They weren't disappointed. The doors to the cafeteria opened and in came the freshly-oriented third trimester students.

"Oh hey, looks like you have a new addition to your brood, Lucas," snickered Loki Shadow Reave, pointing to a little twelve-year-old girl who was clinging onto a little rabbit with red goggles, a lab coat, and a brown helmet.

"Indeed, I do," Lucas replied serenely, floating over to the girl. "Hello, little one. I am an Angel of –"

"Yeah, whatever," the girl snapped, adjusting her glasses and staring up at him with an amazing amount of attitude. "Like I need your stupid holiness!"

Lucas nearly fainted out of shock. Everyone else snickered, except for Susanna Black-White, who looked horrified at seeing her role model being sassed by a girl who didn't look much older than her.

"Luke!" someone called, and moments later another angel appeared. "How's it going, man?"

"Not another overgrown bird!" Loki, a Shadow demon (and therefore Lucas's archnemesis), complained.

"Is that you, Loki?" another demon popped his head into the room, grinning wickedly. "Oh, lovely, more Angels."

"More demons!" squeaked mermaid student Zariana-Sylvia Middleford. "Get them away from me!"

"Well, hello little girl," purred the second demon, winking suggestively at Zariana, who squeaked again and hid behind the other mermaid student, Lucia Verdas. "I am Blaise Asmodée, the Prince of Lechers."

"Cool story, bro," Megan piped up. "I'll take you on, boy."

"This is Megan. She's the resident slut," Lucia Verdas added cheerily, good-naturedly jabbing at Megan as her alien ex-girlfriend walked past. Blaise looked taken aback.

Loki snickered. "I don't think pheromones work very effectively here, unless they come from the Staff members," she noted. Blaise pouted. "Yeah, it doesn't work, seriously. Just ask Aloisio Guerra."

"Actually, I've been powerless in the face of fangirls from the start," aforementioned Cupid pointed out as he flew past with his lyre.

"Whatever," muttered Loki as KyAnna, the resident Dark angel, walked over to their side still clutching a bun.

"So, another holiness-and-light Angel?" she asked, as Loki pilfered her bun. "That was mine, Loki, give it back."

"Nyeh, takers keepers," retorted Loki. "We still outnumber them, anyways. And no one likes Lucas."

"But really, only an idiot would protest against gay rights at a school full of yaoi fangirls," snickered KyAnna. "Not a lot of people like hearing that their Lust Objects are going to Hell just because they were written into slash fanfics."

"Oh, I don't mind seeing more Lust Objects in Hell," Loki cackled, grinning wickedly. "Keep 'em coming!"

But back to the Light Side. Lucas had just greeted his friend Cain Harren, who looked every bit as angelic as he did. Cain was then duly introduced to Susanna, who grinned prettily at him.

"So, you're an angel, too?" the ten-year-old girl asked happily.

"Why certainly, little one. Like your friend Lucas, I am also one of the Messengers of –"

_CRASH_! It looked as if the religious censors at IAHF were up-to-date. Cain looked up to see the door to the cafeteria swing open.

In came Mr. Hugh Fraser, the Course Coordinator at IAHF. He was tall, blond, thick-browed, and reasonably handsome. Considering the rumours that circulated about him possibly being the child between Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones, it was no wonder. Mr. Hugh was accompanied by Gestapo Ludwig, who was forcibly restraining a young woman with tousled blonde hair.

At the sight of Mr. Hugh, red-haired Charles Tenterden squealed and rushed for him. At the same time, Karen Elaine DuLay squealed at the sight of Gestapo Ludwig and tried to dive-tackle him. The German quickly stepped away, causing Karen to crash into the floor.

"You have no right to handle me like this!" Ludwig's detainee screamed, her blue eyes mad with rage. Her curly blonde hair had obviously been pristine prior to the struggle, and she had two ahoges on her head that echoed the infamous Vargas curls.

"Mary, be quiet, _please_," Mr. Hugh pleaded in his Sexy British Accent (the only difference between him and his alter-ego Mr. Allen Clarke was that Received Pronunciation accent), obviously trying to placate her.

"I will not be quiet! You dare handle your wife with such contempt?" That accusation had the whole room reeling in shock. Kitty and Anita quickly scrambled for their chart.

"His wife?" echoed Christine Blacke, rubbing her eyes. "She's his _wife_?"

"Raise your hand if you suddenly thought of _Jane Eyre_," Carolina Brown declared at the Australia table, where the Nerd Group regularly convened. Several people in the room raised their hands.

But Mary hadn't finished ranting yet. "I have been exceedingly loyal to you, even after you died, mind you – but the moment I wake up here they say – they say that you've already gone and impregnated some _whore_!"

"Impregnated?" echoed the students, looking over at Megan. She didn't seem to have a baby bump, but who knew.

"Oh, yeah, he did get someone pregnant," Emma Markowska said loudly from her corner. "I heard about it a couple of months ago."

"Look, Mary, Takara was a naïve fool. That doesn't make her a _whore_. There's a world of difference between a fool and a whore," Mr. Hugh said patiently.

"Takara got _pregnant_? The _Mary Sue_ chick? By _Mr. Hugh_?" Sakura Crystal Kirkland asked loudly.

"I didn't know he had it in him!" Sabrina snickered, gnawing at a crouton.

Charlie Tenterden had stopped dead in his tracks and was sobbing into Taylor Drews-Garcia's shoulder. Taylor, who was going out with Nerd Group leader Franklin Mycroft Livingston, also looked disappointed since he had (once upon a time) also held a torch for Mr. Hugh.

"He got someone pregnant, and it wasn't me!" bawled the red-haired fanboy. Taylor patted his shoulder consolingly.

"Wait, is this guy, like, some sort of chick _and_ guy magnet?" Nick Jenkins demanded, pointing to Mr. Hugh, who was muttering something to his snarling wife. Jennifer was reminded of those lion tamers at the circus; she half-expected Mr. Hugh to try to put his head in his wife's mouth any minute. "Wow, like, no wonder his wife's mad!"

After a while, Mr. Hugh took a step away from the blonde Mary, who seemed to be struggling to hold her tongue. "We will talk later," he said imperiously, before striding from the room closely followed by Gestapo Ludwig. Once free of her restraint, Mary ran for the door, her irritable mood back.

"What about the _children_?" she screamed.

"Children?" echoed the students, looking at each other uneasily.

"He had _children_? _Shit_, they must be _evil_!" Mitsuki Horenake declared. "Probably really cute, but totally evil! Like the Fluffy Mint Bunnies!"

Like all similar institutions, cute and fluffy things at IAHF were often evil. It was just a fact of life.

Mary seemed to be forcibly restraining herself from pounding and kicking at the door until it fell, simply because she would probably just hurt herself doing it. She settled for yelling instead. "Surely you haven't forgotten about the _children_, you –!" She huffed and took a deep breath. "HUGH FRASER, YOU SON OF A _BITCH_!"

Susanna Black-White gasped in horror, as Lucas Arch put his hands over her ears. Everyone else looked shell-shocked. No one had ever called the Course Coordinator something like that before.

"Uh… Mary?" Allison Frazier asked. She was apparently a cross-dresser, which Peter Kirkland had taken to mean that she liked wearing crosses. Peter Kirkland did customs at IAHF, and he was notorious for misinterpreting the forms.

"Was she at the orientation?" Kriss Kross asked another new student, who had introduced herself as Emerald Glee.

"Yeah," Emerald said. "She got really mad at… what's-his-face… halfway through the orientation and had to be escorted out of the room."

"Why? I mean… is she really his wife?" Jennifer asked.

"She must be Mary Crawford Fraser," Merka declared, snapping her fingers. "She was on our DBQ last semester, remember?"

"The one who rambled on and on about Italy and Japan and how pretty they were?" Kriss echoed, looking over at the sour-tempered woman who had now settled for fuming silently. "Wow, discrepancy much?"

"Considering she wrote that whenever she had been historically alive…" Merka nodded, before doing the universal sign for cuckoo. "I don't think the squirrels in her attic are sober."

"How did she get in here? Wouldn't they have let her stay with Mr. Hugh, since she's also technically a historical figure?" Emerald Glee asked.

"Hm." Kriss furrowed her brows. "Maybe there was a misunderstanding."

They looked over at Mary once more, watching the irritated woman pace the ground in front of the doors, huffing and snorting like an angry stallion.

Or, in light of her gender, an angry mare.

* * *

"There has got to be a mistake. How did my wife end up on the student enrolment list?" Mr. Hugh demanded, glaring at Peter Kirkland as he stormed into the Customs office. The micronation shrugged.

"She filled out the form," he replied nonchalantly.

"How did she _get_ the form?" Mr. Hugh asked accusingly.

"Who _resurrected_ her?" Peter retorted.

Mr. Hugh sighed. "We could have let her become one of the historical figures on the Staff," he muttered.

Peter sighed as well. "Dunno how to do that, sir. We've never turned a student into a Staff member before." He paused. "Well, _duh_, since it's our first year."

Mr. Hugh massaged his temples. "It's the least I can do for her. Just figure it out." He turned and left the office, storming towards his own with a raging headache. By the time he reached his office, Mr. Hugh was gone and Mr. Allen was in control.

Arthur Kirkland suddenly arrived on the scene, with Alfred F. Jones in tow. The American was spinning a basketball, having just finished another round of basket-shooting with Toris Lorinatis. Alfred and Ivan Braginski were having their March Madness basketball games in the upcoming weekend, and the little-used basketball court at IAHF had been duly renamed to the Cold War Basketball Court.

"Hey, Mr…" Arthur called.

"Allen," Mr. Allen replied, unlocking his door. "What is it?" He raised an eyebrow at Alfred, who flashed him a grin.

"Thank you," Arthur coughed. "Anyways, we heard that one of the new students is your wife."

"I don't have a wife," Mr. Allen pointed out.

"Your historical wifey?" Alfred suggested, dribbling the ball through his legs.

"I said I don't have a wife, historical or otherwise!" snapped Mr. Allen. "Now, if you'll excuse me –"

"Allen! Has the fanbrats' collective stupidity rendered your mind incapable of inference?" Arthur growled. "If Mary Crawford is not _your_ wife, then she must be your alter-ego's wife, isn't that so?"

"Arthur, April Fool's Day is only in a week. Surely you can wait a week," Mr. Allen complained before slamming the door in their faces.

"That ungrateful boy!" Arthur hissed, shocked by the abrupt end to their conversation. He and Alfred started heading back up the corridor once more.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Artie?" Alfred asked as he nonchalantly started spinning the basketball again.

"I can't read minds, you idiot." Arthur crossed his arms.

Alfred stopped the ball and did the universal cuckoo sign with his free hand.

Arthur raised both eyebrows. "Ah, I see now. It_ is_ getting more and more serious, I'll grant it that." He paused. "We have two options to fix it, though – combine the two personalities, or…"

"Or?" Alfred asked.

"No, the second one's too… I don't think we have the technology for it."

"Tell me anyways!"

"Fine. I was thinking that we could clone Mr. Allen, forcibly extract Mr. Hugh's personality, and implant that second personality in the clone's mind. Basically, we'd forcibly separate them into two different beings."

Alfred snorted. "What's so strange about that? We have our own clones running around here!"

"Yes, but this is the purposeful creation of a clone! It'll be more complicated." Arthur nodded. "But whatever we do, we need to do it fast. Having a half-mad Course Coordinator isn't going to be helpful in the current situation."

"It was funny at first," agreed Alfred. "We'll go talk to the shrink about it."

"Yes, we'll talk to the _psychologist_." The two of them lapsed into silence. "How is Project Roswell coming along?" Project Roswell was the official name for Mr. Allen's Evil Plan. The Staff used it to heighten the mysteriousness of said evil plan and to get the students morbidly curious about it. Shinbun-kun had been convinced (or more accurately speaking, blackmailed) not to spill anything about Project Roswell until Mr. Allen announced it to the students.

Alfred's eyes lit up. "Tony's got some awesome designs, Artie! Wanna see them? He printed some out and gave them to me! Come on!" He grabbed the Briton's hand and dragged him down the hall; they nearly collided with Italu and Itly as the two Mochi Nations bounced by with a strand of pasta between them. The minis at IAHF were Mochi Nations, and woe betides those who crossed them or tried to eat them. The last student who had attempted to eat a Mochi (a girl named Yumi, who had been responsible for Turnkey, a giant key that acted as the new guard to the Golag) had ended up in the Hospital Wing for two weeks. Mochi poison worked nasty wonders on the stomach.

But back to Alfred and Arthur. The two were quickly closeted away in Alfred's room (with the plaque 'THIS IS THE HERO'S ROOM! DANGER: DO NOT ENTER!' outside on the door), looking at several fantastically complicated designs that Alfred's alien friend, Tony, had created. "Did you know? The Pict aliens have agreed to help us with this project! Feliciano promised all of them markers in return for their help."

"Finally, you two are doing something right," Arthur remarked, looking intently at one byzantine design that looked suspiciously like Flying Mint Bunny.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" complained Alfred. "Oh, and guess what? The Headmaster designed our outfits for Project Roswell already! See?" He bounced over to his desk and pulled out a book, brandishing it at Arthur. "Look!"

"I can't look at the outfits if you're waving them at me like that," Arthur snapped, taking the book from him and flipping through it. "Which ones?"

"We have the blue ones," replied Alfred, grinning from ear to ear. "Look, look! I get a pocket-watch! And you get a mini top hat!"

"But since when was _I_ your _Queen_?" Arthur demanded, blushing furiously.

"It's just a suit of cards, Artie, chillax," Alfred muttered.

"But that's suggestive to the fangirls!" Arthur glared daggers at his outfit. "I like the design and everything, but…"

"Come on! You'll look great!" encouraged Alfred. "You'll look like an old man, but that's your style, so whatever."

Arthur smacked him. "Shut up, you imbecile!"

And with that, everything was well at IAHF.

For now.


	52. Stark Raving Bonkers

**Part II**

One of the good things about having no classes was being able to sleep in on weekdays. This was something embraced by IAHF Staff and students alike.

Jennifer opened an eye to groggily look at the clock on the wall opposite her. Nine-thirty. Had it been any other Tuesday, she would have been scrambling to get to class. In fact, _had_ it been any other Tuesday she would have been in the stadium at four in the morning, running laps around the track to the screeches of Ludwig's whistle.

But it was Spring Break, so instead she snuggled into Workbitch Bartholomew's sleepy embrace and closed her eyes happily. He was awake, too, and obviously trying to pretend he wasn't. Jennifer sniggered at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Workbitch mumbled into her ear, smirking against her skin. Jennifer shivered, despite it being rather warm under the covers. "Indolent darling…" He drew her closer to him, eyes still closed.

"You make my laziness sound like some sort of lofty ideal," Jennifer giggled, muffling her voice with his chest. She opened her eyes to look at him; he opened his eyes as well and grinned as she kissed the spot on his chest where his heartbeat fluttered.

"I think we missed breakfast, at any rate," Workbitch noted, his voice sounding slightly bitter, since Mr. Allen still wouldn't let Jennifer take her meals with the rest of the Staff. It was almost as if she was his _mistress _or something. In a way, she was, but the sacred art of being a mistress was now lost; it had faded into obscurity during the Sexual Revolution.

"I don't mind," Jennifer yawned, "unless you're hungry." She made a contented humming noise as he began kissing her neck.

"Mm," he grunted as she trailed a hand up his back, tracing intricate designs onto his back with her fingers.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Jennifer breathed.

* * *

The normal Ludwig Beilschmidt – as normal as one could ever be at IAHF, where nearly everyone was madder than a hatter with mercury poisoning – strode down the hallway outside the conservatory, cursing fluently in German. Inside the glass-panelled walls of the Conservatory, Netherlands' tulips were blooming in an explosion of colour and beauty. But the Netherlands' tulips weren't the cause of Ludwig's fluent cursing.

"Misplaced something?" Gilbert Beilschmidt had somehow acquired that odd habit of dropping down from the ceiling (probably got it from Akiko Arihima, who was a ninja and therefore made dropping down from ceilings an art form); he landed a couple feet away from Ludwig, but the other German was startled nonetheless.

"Bruder, I told you to stop doing that!" Ludwig hissed, his face going from frightened pale back to angry red. "And where did you find the lists?"

Gilbert smirked, dangling a piece of paper in front of his brother tantalisingly. "Not telling," he chirped. "Perhaps a little_ bird_ told me!"

"DID YOU TELL GILBIRD TO STEAL THE LISTS? I SWEAR, IF YOU HADN'T BEEN MY BROTHER I WOULD –" And there, Ludwig mentioned some very unprintable actions. But Gilbert laughed, taking it all in stride.

"Sure, Bruder, I love you too." He paused. "You know, had I not taken the lists, a student would have gotten to them."

"Ja, I believe you," Ludwig replied sarcastically.

Gilbert brandished the piece of paper. "I'm being serious now, West! There was a boy with red hair dangling outside your window, trying to get a picture of the lists!"

"A boy with red hair," echoed Ludwig, his tone of voice clearly suggesting that he believed that Gilbert was bullshitting, as usual.

"Charlie Tenterden, you know him, right? Tried to get pictures of the awesome me in the showers? I think he was trying to disprove that five metres thing that a lot of the fans believe in."

"Don't they know that one of their… er, kind created the five metres legend?" Ludwig wondered.

"Exactly," Gilbert nodded. "Charlie Tenterden was trying to uncover Project Roswell!"

Ludwig looked at him suspiciously, before taking back the lists. "This is only a list of the hearts," he pointed out.

"Oh, right," Gilbert reached into a random plothole and pulled out three more lists. "There you go."

"Danke."

* * *

Mr. Hugh stepped out of the portal into the Medical Ward of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. Due to his incompetence at handling anything electronic, he had had Arthur work the Remote Activator for him.

"Good morning, Miss Takara," he said cordially to the pregnant woman lying on her bed drinking a cup of milk. Takara was a nurse at IAHF who had deliberately used Aura of Smooth (a Mary Sue's primary weapon) to get Mr. Hugh to sleep with her. But she had been deceived into obtaining the Aura, and was now paying the price for her idiocy.

"Good morning," Takara replied, blushing slightly as he took a seat at her bedside. "I'm approaching six months," she added shyly. "I look like a hippopotamus with a gland problem."

Mr. Hugh snorted. "A hippopotamus doesn't have black hair and green eyes," he pointed out. "Maybe green eyes, but not like yours."

She laughed a little. "I'll take that as a veiled compliment."

"That was how it was meant to be taken." Mr. Hugh leaned back in his seat. "I assume the mission has been a success?"

Takara nodded. "I killed the Mary Sue responsible for the Glitter Bomb and we managed to rescue… what's-her-face." She made a vague gesture. "Agent Eledhwen. Yes, that's her name."

Mr. Hugh smiled thinly. "That's good." They trailed off into an awkward silence. Finally, Mr. Hugh coughed again, looking away from her.

"Something wrong?" Takara asked as Nurse Suzine entered, gave her the check-up papers, and left. She passed the papers to Mr. Hugh after a cursory glance; everything seemed to be in order except for the anticipated due date being moved a week earlier. That was the problem with conceiving children while under Aura of Smooth – the excess Glitter guaranteed a Suvian baby. Suvian babies were known for their rapid development and were likely to pop out fully developed any time in the third trimester.

"Mm," Mr. Hugh muttered, still reading the check-up papers. Takara frowned.

"Tell me," she insisted, leaning forward as best she could. All she got in response was a kick from the foetus.

Mr. Hugh looked up. "Have you heard of Mary Crawford?" he asked.

"She was a writer at the turn of the century," Takara replied. "I've read her brother's works. What about her?"

"I guess you didn't know she was, historically, married to me," Mr. Hugh mumbled, his cheeks flushing bright red.

Takara blinked. "And you're telling me this because…?"

"She's at IAHF."

Takara bit her lower lip. "And you… you told her about me?"

"I didn't. Someone else did. She didn't take it too well, especially considering that she was also enrolled as a student." Mr. Hugh coughed before looking at her. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Takara demanded.

"Sorry for deceiving you."

"Does it matter? Wedding vows last until 'death do us part'. You predeceased her. Aren't you technically free of any marital obligations to her?"

"But now she's back, too!" Mr. Hugh shook his head. "How… I don't even know what to do!"

Takara sat up and took his hand. "I think… you're just…" she bit her lip, feeling a lump in her throat rise from what she was about to say. "You're… torn, aren't you? Duty to your resurrected wife, duty to me as the mother of your child…"

"Yes, even if we are giving Emma Victoria Fraser up for adoption, I still have an obligation to you as her father…" Mr. Hugh muttered.

"And… are you considering a vow renewal or something?" The lump seemed to be harder to swallow with each word.

Mr. Hugh blinked. "M-maybe. I… that's exactly it. I'm torn. What am I supposed to do? No one's ever had to go through this!"

Takara sniffled. "It's obvious, isn't it? Do your duty to your wife first." Pause. "Forget about me."

"What are you insinuating?" Mr. Hugh demanded. "You're not trying to be magnanimous… right?"

"Actually, yeah," Takara replied, shrugging. Contrary to her casual tone, tears had begun to pool at the corners of her eyes. "I love you, but… that's all it's ever going to be. Just me, telling you this… and you, with your newly-resurrected wife… and you don't even need to care."

"Don't need to care?" The Course Coordinator's voice grew a little louder, a little angrier in tone. "The problem is, I _do _care for you, Takara, whether you want me to or not. If I didn't care, why would I even be here checking up on you and Emma? Why would I even be torn between you and Mary?"

"Duty," Takara replied stiffly. "You always had a great liking for duty. Maybe that's why I liked you so much. You were everything I wasn't."

"Stop making me want to cry!" snapped Mr. Hugh, crossing his arms. "Dammit, Takara. By all means I should hate you, since you caused all of that ruckus back in the first semester! You were responsible for pulling the wool over my eyes while security crashed around our ears, and yet –!" He broke off, looking at her intently. "And yet I don't hate you," he finished lamely. "Call me mad, but I think I do love you, too."

Takara snorted. "You have always been mad, Hugh," she pointed out. "But now you're stark raving bonkers." And with that, she pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, revelling in how familiar they were.

"By the end of this, they'll have me in FicPsych," Mr. Hugh predicted, breathing the words against her lips. Takara laughed.

Neither pulled away.

* * *

The third trimester students were quickly led to their rooms. A new wing had been added to the girls' dorm, to accommodate the increase in female students. The new male students just filled out the top floors of the boys' dorm.

"Move your things in here," Lucas suggested to Cain as the other Angel dragged in his things from his assigned dorm room. Lucas's previous roommate, Alexander Morris, had dropped out at the end of second semester to several people's sadness. Alexander had been British, after all, and at least forty percent of the female population at IAHF had appreciated his Sexy British Accent.

He had also been the unofficial mascot of the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles, but that was beside the point.

"Oh, I am so glad you have this space for me," Cain sighed as he and Andrew Khok carted in his Canon 101 textbook (which was printed in Latin, since he was taking that as his language class). "I was positively dreading sharing a room with that lecherous demon."

"Blaise?" Lucas asked. Cain nodded. "Ah, yes, him. He's the personification of Lust itself, if I do say so myself. Has he already started turning the innocents away from the Path to –?"

"EXACTLY HOW MANY ANDREWS ARE THERE IN THIS SCHOOL?" someone screamed in a room down the hall.

"That would be Megan, who preys on innocents for their sexual offerings," Lucas noted, clamping his hands down on Andrew Khok's ears as he said that. "Shall we go find out why she is here?"

The two Angels and a very confused little boy strode down the hall to the aforementioned room, where Taylor Drews-Garcia was introducing a very flabbergasted Megan to a – was that a boy or a girl? – person with short brown hair and a black scarf.

"We heard yelling," Cain said by way of greeting. Megan smirked at Lucas, who pretended to not even know her. "What is this about multiple Andrews?"

"This fine… fellow… is the fourth Andrew," Taylor Drews-Garcia replied, smirking. "How are you feeling, Andrew?"

"A little jealous of someone," replied Andrew, and suddenly his voice became distinctively masculine.

"He's kinda like a hermaphrodite," snickered Megan. "Isn't this fabulous, now?"

"You are already thinking impure thoughts about him, aren't you?" Lucas asked, trying to look disinterested.

Megan snorted. "By your definitions, my mind is so impure that you'll need a gallon of bleach to get it clean again." She paused. "Make that fifty gallons."

"Greetings," Andrew the fourth muttered. "I'm Andrew Yugi Kross. I'm also a mage and an Angel."

"One of us?" Cain asked interestedly.

"But a mage is a type of magic-user, so you're also in league with the witches!" Lucas dramatically pointed at him. "How are you going to determine your own salvation if you –"

"Hey, hey, let it go, buddy. We need all the help we can get against those _demons_," Cain pointed out.

"Cool story, bro," Megan said suddenly. "Taylor, I heard there's a gay guy here."

"Seriously?" Taylor looked intrigued. "Wait, I'm already on a diet."

"Doesn't mean you can't look at the menu, stupid. Let's go say hi! I heard he's on the fifth floor. We'll go pick up Charlie on the way, then!

Birds of a feather flocked together. Like how the Angels and Demons had their cliques and the Nerd Group was an exclusive club, there were several other parties at IAHF. There were the customary shipping groups and fanclubs, not to mention the now-inactive Lurkers' Union (which was always up for a revival whenever the next crisis came along). Then there were the unlabelled groups.

People could always count on seeing Kriss, Merka, and Jennifer sitting together at the North American table at mealtimes, sometimes accompanied by rabid Canada fangirl Sara Parker. But less well-known was the group formed by Megan, Charlie, Taylor and their associates. Megan hung out with the boys so much that she was practically one of them, and rumours (no doubt started by Lucas) circulated about their activities outside sitting together at mealtimes. Some called it a ménage à trois. Others ditched the French and called it a threesome.

The Threesome (as Megan sometimes would call it, since it sounded better than 'Perv Trio' or 'Student Bad Touch Trio' or something to that extent) soon found themselves traipsing up to the fifth floor to greet some newcomers. The first door they came to was locked, and suspicious noises were coming from inside. After a moment, an obviously irritated Angel of Death opened the door and came storming outside.

"My stupid roommate's screwing his girlfriend," he snapped, jabbing his thumb at the door. "Stupid motherfuckers."

"Oh, lovely," Megan trilled. "Who's the unfortunate girl?"

"Some Chinky chick named Aki Chung-Feng." The boy rolled his eyes. "What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"We're the welcome wagon, of course," cackled Charlie. "What's your name, eh?"

"Ashton West, badass Angel of Death at your motherfucking service, bro!" The African-American boy cackled. "Do you lot know where KyAnna is? I haven't seen her in a while and Mimi Sonhart says she's here."

"Probably girls' dorm, but Wizard Arthur recently charmed the door to not let penises enter," Megan sniffed. "Says we'll all get raped in our sleep by you guys if we don't watch out. But he didn't do anything about the boys' dorm, so that's why I'm here."

"I'd figured as much, since Aki Ching-chong-ling-long-ting-tong got in here and I know she's got girl parts," Ashton replied. "I'm going to get away from this room, now," he added, kicking his door. "Be back later, motherfuckers." And then he left.

"So, where's the… you know…?" Charlie asked. "Is it the same guy we saw in the cafeteria?"

"The one talking about Mr. Hugh?" Taylor echoed.

"Yeah, him," Megan replied.

"Then we don't need to say hi to him, right? We know what he looks like: luscious blond hair and gorgeous green eyes. Let's go stalk someone else!"

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the girls' dorms, Korah Lyons had discovered that she was rooming with Candy Handy, who was a sleepy cat-lady. That meant she had cat ears, a cat tail, and a substantial amount of fur in other uncomfortable areas – not to mention perpetual laziness.

She also hated USUK.

Korah loved USUK.

Anyone with a brain could tell that this wasn't going to end well.

"They are so in denial, dammit!" Korah snapped as she tried to put up a giant USUK poster. Candy was preventing her from doing so.

"No! It's too paedo for me!" yawned Candy, batting at the other fangirl's poster. "Don't put it up! I don't want to see paedophilia posted all over my walls!"

"They're also _my_ walls!" screamed Korah. "Come on! Just this one?"

"Did you have to make it so damned big?" Candy demanded, stifling another yawn. "You could have put up something –" But she never finished her sentence, since she had abruptly fell asleep.

Apparently being a sleepy cat-lady meant having narcolepsy as well.

"Yay! I'm putting up this poster now!" chirped Korah as she tacked down her picture of Alfred and Arthur making out, grinning brightly.

"Where'd you get that?" Georgina Quinn had poked her head into the room, noticing the poster within a heartbeat. "It's so hot!"

"I know, right? My roommate doesn't like it. She likes AmeriCan and PrUk."

"At least it's not UKSey. Oh my god, no."

"Or FrUK, heavens forbid," agreed Korah. "Dude, why am I not rooming with you?"

"Because the Narrative Laws of Comedy think it's funnier this way," replied Georgiana matter-of-factly.

"What?" Korah tilted her head to the side. The two fangirls walked out into the hallway, not noticing Candy recover from her narcolepsy and tear down the poster.

"I was being sarcastic, anyways," Georgiana noted. "But I bet you could blame the Staff. I heard they do the dorm assignments, and they try to put conflicting people together whenever possible."

Korah pouted. "That's so evil of them!" she complained.

"Yeah, but apparently they're evil, so it's perfect," Georgiana muttered.

The two girls continued to walk down the hall, as Korah's roommate lapsed back into sleep, covered by the USUK poster and a nice patch of sunlight.


	53. In Which Antonio Tries to Speak Whale

**Notes:** Check Hughie's livejournal for the lyrics to Glitter Bombs and the rest of the Friday Parody: http: / / hugh-fraser . livejournal . com / 5519 . html (remove the spaces)

* * *

**Part III**

"What are they doing to the stadium?" Alexandria Russell wondered as she and the other two Alexandrias (well, one of them was an Alexandra, but that was beside the point) in the Alex Inquisition (the only problems with that name were that they didn't inquire about anything and most people expected them) walked past said stadium on a crisp Thursday morning. The grass felt deliciously springy underneath their feet; the lawn seemed to roll on forever, broken only by the trees and flowers. Obviously Alfred and Ivan haven't started digging trenches yet.

The girls walked past two intertwining oaks as they neared the entrance to the stadium. Foliage shrouded the trees in varying hues of green. And as it turns out, the reason why Alfred and Ivan weren't digging up the lawn yet was because they were busy having a tree-climbing competition.

"Their rivalry never dies, does it?" Alexandria Peterson asked thoughtfully as they neared the stadium. The din coming from inside grew louder and louder; it sounded as if ten chainsaws were having a drunken party with the Mochis – that is, if chainsaws and Mochis could hold drunken parties. Maybe the Mochis could, but _most_ chainsaws weren't sentient.

At the entrance, however, murika and Endland were barring the way. They were a particularly fierce team when it came to catching fangirls, and the students already gathered at the entrance were giving them a wide berth. Endland and murika, also dubbed the Special Relationship Mochis, had the second-highest catch rate. They were second only to Eevahn and chogoku, and were obviously out to beat the Commies' record.

Conflicts between capitalism and communism were forever, it seemed.

But back to the stadium. "What's going on? I wanna see what's in the stadium!" Alexandria Russell whined, trying to push past her peers.

"They're guarding it! Azure already tried to get in and she got blobbed," Cristiana Moretti exclaimed, pointing to Azure the cat-girl student, who was pulling Mochi bits out of her fur. "I heard Lovino's in there. Lovi, Lovi, come out!" she called, but of course Lovino Vargas couldn't hear her.

"Yeah, like that's going to help," yawned Coraline Freeman, rubbing her eyes. "He probably can't even hear you."

"No! Lovi!" cried Cristiana, cupping her hands to her mouth. "Ti amo, Lovi!"

"No, bitch, Lovi's mine!" screamed Summer Elizabeth Smith.

"You guys, it's Iceland all the way," Neira Henrietta declared. Alexandria Peterson nodded fervently.

"What's so great about him? It's totally the awesome Prussia!" Violet-Hime snapped.

Alexandra Reynolds sighed, rolling her eyes. "Can we take the Lust Object argument somewhere else?" she demanded.

"Hey, Miss Free-Access!" Kitty hollered suddenly, directing that at Jennifer, who had just arrived on the scene. "Have you heard anything about this?" She gestured to the stadium.

"All I know is that it's called Project Roswell," Jennifer replied. She, like many others, was still clad in pyjamas. The newer students looked at each other confusedly.

"That name is familiar," Alexandra Reynolds pointed out. "Just can't put my finger on it."

"Well, duh!" Lucia Verdas had appeared, wrapped in a towel and wincing slightly. "The Roswell Incident in 1947! That's what it's named after!"

"What happened in the Roswell Incident?" Ema Skye demanded.

"The United States government was involved in a controversy regarding an unidentified flying object that had crashed in Roswell, New Mexico," listed green-haired Dorothy Brown, ever the walking encyclopaedia. "The military claimed that the object was part of a weather balloon; others claim that it was part of an alien spacecraft. The numerous testimonies given have rendered the Roswell Incident one of the most famous UFO controversies in history."

"But what does that have to do with anything?" Cristiana wondered.

"Maybe they're going to do something with aliens!" Lucia exclaimed, bouncing slightly. "Maybe Tony will be there!"

"Oh, sure," muttered Kazuma Miyafuji. "Still, it's a clue, isn't it?" Next to him, Yuki-rin Øxenstierna and her half-sister Molly O'Flannigan-Oxenstierna grinned and nodded. Some people found it sad that Molly was not a redhead, despite being Irish – especially Kriss. Kriss seemed to have a fetish for redheads, something Charlie had been quick to capitalise on before.

"Nice clue, then. Whatever." Molly was busy listening to her iPod – or more accurately, listening to a pea pod that was playing Irish punk rock music. "Shut up, I'm listening to the Pogues."

"The Pogues are amazing!" Jennifer exclaimed randomly.

"You're only saying that because you're an Anglophile, aren't you?" Lucia asked, snickering.

"Whatever," Molly repeated. "See you all later, then." She walked off, clutching her music-playing pea pod to her ear.

"I still wonder what's going on in the stadium," Alexandria Russell sighed.

* * *

"Allen, Mary's here to talk to you," Workbitch said, poking his head into the room.

"How did she get in here? She's a student," snapped Mr. Allen, who had been writing a furious letter to himself rebuking his alter-ego for getting so involved in romantic matters. "Tell her to submit an application first –"

"She's your bloody _wife_, for crying out loud!" Workbitch exclaimed.

"April Fool's Day's tomorrow." Mr. Allen didn't look up from his letter.

"I am serious about this, Allen. Listen to what she has to say. _Now_." Workbitch's voice was unnaturally sharp, causing Mr. Allen to look up, blot his letter, and grudgingly nod. Satisfied, the secretary opened the door, admitting the same diminutive blonde with the two stray curls.

"What do you want?" Mr. Allen demanded. Mary's eyes widened in shock.

"What happened to you, Hugh? Why do you address me like this?" she asked cautiously, obviously stung.

Workbitch sighed. "Maybe I should have clarified it to you before, but your husband isn't in his right mind."

"Isn't in his right mind?" echoed Mary.

"I said he wouldn't be in a position to receive you today, Ms. Crawford, but you insisted," Workbitch bowed apologetically. "I'm afraid that in this life, your husband has a mild case of dissociative identity disorder."

"What?" Mary asked, frowning.

"Multiple personalities," Workbitch replied. "He knows about it and copes with it as best as he can, but right now you are not talking to your husband. You're talking to his alter-ego, who thinks that he is single. Hugh's situation is rather unique, since both personalities are not distinctively different from each other and remember events experienced by the other. But the alter-egos do have differences, and they do interact with each other as if they were separate people… so…" he trailed off, sighing.

"So my husband's gone mad?" Mary asked.

"I'm not your husband," Mr. Allen growled.

"Yes, you are; you're just in denial about it," Mary said bluntly.

"That's a line everyone says to me," Mr. Allen noted sardonically, "especially that idiotic Charlie Tenterden."

"You can already note the primary difference between the two is in their voices. Allen speaks in an American accent."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not in the room," growled Mr. Allen.

"I would try to include you, but you appear to be busy talking to yourself," Workbitch replied coolly. Mary leaned over to try and read the paper. "Second difference is in handwriting."

"Hugh preferred script to print, yes," agreed Mary. "He had a small, neat script. This is… spidery print, if that's possible."

"Completely different," Workbitch concluded. "It's harder to tell from their attitudes, though, but I have heard that Allen is more aggressive towards the students than Hugh. Talent-wise, Allen can handle technology that Hugh can't. Strictly speaking, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders would not diagnose him with DID, but what else can it be? He already claims two different names."

"But how did he get it?" Mary demanded. "How?"

"That's the question." Workbitch nodded. "Now, you had some complaints for us?"

Back at the desk, Mr. Allen had suddenly clutched his forehead, wincing in pain. Mary raced to his side, eyes immediately anxious.

"Hughie?" she asked quietly.

"Mary?" Mr. Hugh asked in response.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you the other day," Mary blurted, dropping to her knees and taking his hand. "I don't know how I can atone for that."

"It's nothing. I deserved it," Mr. Hugh muttered. "You had something you wanted to tell me, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"Allen said so," Mr. Hugh replied simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Mary looked over at Workbitch, who shrugged. Mary turned back to Mr. Hugh, looking unsure of her husband's mental abilities.

"Y-yes. I was hoping that you had come to a decision regarding my position at this school."

"I told the Customs office to give you a Staff position," Mr. Hugh replied absently, fiddling with his vest. "Hopefully by the end of this week you will not have to share a room with Miss Rohart."

"Thank you," Mary replied, smiling. Had any student seen her, they would have been shocked at how courteous she was acting. Melissa N. Rohart, a goth girl who practiced magic and Mary's roommate, was always quick to paint her roommate as some surly old grouch. Considering that Mary was a devout Catholic…

But that was tangential. Mr. Hugh smiled in return, kissing her forehead. "You'll be fine, right? Just for two more days, and then you'll be here."

"With you?" Mary asked curiously.

Mr. Hugh blinked. "Oh, my room's a bit too cluttered for that," he said hastily.

"I spent a lifetime cleaning up after you, Hughie." She paused. "Well, I did that whenever I wasn't suffering from rheumatism, but still."

"Mary, dear, eventually we'll… be together. Not now. I'm a bit busy now. Have a little more patience."

"I'll try, but you had always been the patient one," Mary remarked drily. "That was all I wanted to request."

"I see." Mr. Hugh nodded. "Well, then. Work will show you the way out, won't you, my good lad?"

Workbitch nodded, amusedly rolling his eyes as he escorted Mary out.

* * *

"Che! Stupid project. What are we supposed to oversee, anyways?" Lovino Vargas demanded from his vantage point in the Effie Tower, which had been dragged into the stadium via plothole. "Wizard Arthur trying to make spells? He's fucking failing!"

"Come on, have some faith in him!" Antonio Fernández Carriedo exclaimed, lightly slapping Lovino on the back as he tried to feed Pierre, Francis's bird, with a tomato. "He's not that incompetent!"

"But did you see the last time that dumbass tried to cast a spell? Big Ben wasn't so big then, was it?"

"You're awful, Lovi," Antonio declared. "Hey, what's going on over there?"

"Oh, the Pict aliens," groaned Lovino. "Why did mio fratello even ask them for help? They're just going to screw everything up! Look! They're turning the entire thing into a blob!"

"Isn't that your brother over there, talking to them?"

"Yeah, him and the stupid potato-brained Kraut," Lovino muttered, taking out a pair of binoculars.

"Aren't those Arthur's?" Antonio wondered. Arthur's counterpart and close friend in the _Scandinavia and the World_ fandom, SatW England, had sent his fellow Englishman those binoculars a couple of weeks back.

"Stole them from the Eyebrow-Bastard's room when he was having tea with Kiku," the Italian replied indifferently. "They're fucking brilliant, these babies."

"I hope you don't break them –" Antonio began to say, but Lovino wasn't paying attention. He was training the binoculars onto Ludwig and Feliciano, who were leaning on a set of bushes and talking.

It was a bit hard to say which bush, though, since the entire stadium seemed to be composed of hedges now. Right now they were only waist-height, but Wizard Arthur and Mr. Allen had grand hopes of cultivating monsters out of them. The American football field would never be the same after this.

"What do they have over there?" Antonio asked, pointing to the edge of the rows of hedges. "They're digging something up over there."

Lovino looked away from his brother's hedge-trimming (Feliciano was trying to make a topiary platter of pasta, having been distracted from the Pict aliens, who were turning the hedges back to normal) to see a troupe of Mochis arrive on the scene, carrying spades, drills, and other digging implements. The bison that had carried in IAHF's giant Christmas tree was now carting in a giant tank with a giant whale sitting in it like a mutant goldfish – only goldfish and whales belonged to different classes. One was in Osteichthyes, and the other was in Mammalia.

"Looks like Hamburger-Bastard's pet whale," Lovino remarked.

"Ameriwhale?" Antonio exclaimed happily, eyes sparkling. "Whales are pretty and make wonderful noises!"

"I think they're going to try to put that tank in the ground as part of the project," Lovino added, not paying attention to Antonio's ramblings about whales. Pierre had flown off with Gilbird.

"Did you know, Lovi, that I can speak whale?" Antonio asked suddenly.

"No, you can't, you dumbass," Lovino growled.

"Yes, I can!" Antonio began to make a series of loud wailing noises, as if he was trying to speak Welsh on an upset stomach. Lovino groaned, slamming his head down on the railing of the Effie Tower repeatedly.

"CHE CAZZO STAI DICENDO, TESTA DI MERDA? YOU CAN'T SPEAK WHALE! YOU SOUND LIKE YOU'RE EATING ARTHUR'S COOKING! STOP IT! STOP IT!" He waved his arms wildly, trying to gesticulate in the usual Italian fashion.

The binoculars slipped out of his hand.

"_Merda_," hissed Lovino as he and Antonio watched the binoculars fall down, down, down…


	54. Everybody in the House of Love

**Notes:** THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 1000+ REVIEWS! I AM SO HAPPY AND GRATEFUL FOR EACH OF THEM.

**Additional Disclaimer**: I do not own "Everybody in the House of Love" or "Friday".

* * *

**Part IV**

As spring moved in, the days got noticeably longer. This particular twilight on the last day of March found the sun slipping down the western horizon at seven – much later than what it was in winter – dying the sky a myriad of pinks, oranges, and purples.

(Of course, the colours derived from particles in the sky: as white sunlight travels, air molecules and particles in the atmosphere scatter colour out of the beam. Those scattered colours are the colours seen in the sky. Blues and greens scatter more strongly due to their short wavelengths, so they are the colours seen most of the day. However, the path at sunset is long and goes through more particles in the evening air, so the blues and greens are almost completely removed, leaving reds and oranges. But that's all technical, and sunsets lose their romantic quality when described in scientific detail.)

"Alfred-san's basketball game against Ivan-san is coming up soon, yes?" Kiku asked Arthur as they walked along the bank of Lake Eric. The lake's rippling surface reflected the dramatic sunset above. The purples lengthened as twilight progressed; tiny pinpricks of stars twinkled in the sky.

"Saturday evening, I think," Arthur replied casually, rubbing his hands together slightly. Spring evenings were still rather chilly. "Who are you supporting? I'll be cheering for the bloody Yank."

"Of course you would," Kiku replied neutrally. "I support Alfred-san, too."

"Don't let Nat catch you saying that," a third voice cut in. Toris Lorinatis arrived on the scene, his hands heavily bandaged. "She nearly castrated me."

"Nataliya-san does have a bit of a fixation with mutilating the male anatomy," Kiku noted. "What did she do to your hands?"

"Broke my fingers," Toris whimpered. "I tried to hold her hand."

Arthur snorted. "How many times has this happened to you, Toris?" he asked, looking like he was struggling to hold in his laughter. Kiku glared at him.

"I think it's the third time," Toris muttered sheepishly, cheeks colouring (although it was hard to tell in the half-light). "When are we going to reveal the project? I've been constantly reminding Raivis not to tell any of the students."

"He'll only have to wait for three more days or so," Arthur replied, still snickering at Toris's hands. "We're telling them when the classes resume on Monday."

"It's just for the first semester students, though," Kiku pointed out. "Peter-kun is going to tell them?"

"Mr. Allen will accompany him and make sure he talks about everything," Arthur replied firmly. "How many paths are there through the…?" he trailed off, looking pointedly at the newest arrival to their group, Alfred.

"Hey, Toris! Ivan wanted to talk to you about something," the American said, clapping the Lithuanian's shoulder. "Take care, though!"

"Thank you for your concern, Alfred," Toris replied calmly, walking away. Alfred slung a casual arm around Kiku, remaining unfazed even when the Japanese pushed his arm off his shoulders.

"I do not like casual contact, Alfred-san, remember?" Kiku declared patiently.

"Oh, right, sorry!" Alfred settled for resting his arm on Arthur's shoulders; Arthur glowered. "Anyways, I totally can't wait for tomorrow! April Fools' Day, man! Who ya gonna prank?"

"Use proper English, you fool," Arthur ground out. "And April Fools' Day is only for idiots like you and that bearded wine bastard."

"Come off it, Art, we all know you celebrate it, too," Alfred pouted.

Arthur chose not to dignify that with an answer.

* * *

"Poisson d'Avril!"

April Fools' Day settled in on IAHF with a fury. Jennifer woke up on Friday morning to hear Francis and Matthew screaming that in two-part harmony as they raced past, followed by Arthur yelling something about fish.

"What's going on?" she asked Workbitch, who was obviously trying to hide his laughter. "It's April Fools' Day, isn't it?"

"Of course," Workbitch replied, still trying to suppress his snickering.

"You're horrible at hiding things. What did you do?" Jennifer demanded. She reached up and felt something on her face. "Oh no, you didn't!"

Oh yes, he did. When Jennifer saw her face in the mirror, she found herself as the questionably proud new bearer of a set of ridiculously thick eyebrows and a French moustache, all done in stylish black marker.

"Where's the marker?" she demanded, clambering out of bed and rummaging in Workbitch's desk. Workbitch laughed, throwing a pillow at her. Jennifer grabbed the marker with a flourish, turning around and tackling the secretary.

When she was finished, Workbitch was sporting a matching moustache. Jennifer had even given him a Harry Potter lightning bolt.

And of course, since young love always turned the silliest situations into moments of passionate kissing, they did just that, too.

* * *

On the student side of the IAHF campus, the students woke to a hive of pranks. The Bled Pinjas had made their rounds, painting messages like 'if you can read this, you're likely to lose your sight soon afterwards' on the walls and pouring Bled paint onto unsuspecting students trying to do their morning routines. Poor Mariam Webb had been the first victim of that, but she was quickly joined by Massie Wilton, Hannah Harrier, sierra akoti, Mitsuki Horenake, and Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy. Another Hotaru had joined their ranks – a Hotaru Horenake, who claimed to be Mitsuki's clone. Hotaru Horenake's butterfly headphones had taken flight her first night at IAHF, and she hadn't found them since.

Now she found them creating a nest for themselves in the tree outside her window.

Meanwhile, Adriana Taller had managed to get Marukaite Chikyuu stuck in everyone's heads by constantly wriggling her toes. She was like the part-musician Midori Harrison, only with more electric keyboards. No one was safe from the constant repetition of "Marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, boku Hetalia!" as Adriana bounced throughout the dormitory. Melissa N. Rohart, Mary's pagan roommate, had tried to curse Adriana. It didn't work.

"You!" screamed Suzanne Kobzeff, pointing a dramatic finger at her roommate Wake Charlton-Cunningham-Will-Jeff-Riley-Parkson III. "YOU REPLACED ALL OF MY PICTURES WITH PICTURES OF RUSSIA BRUTALLY RAPING LITHUANIA, DIDN'T YOU?"

"Who, me?" Wake asked innocently.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Suzanne snapped, shaking her file of pictures at her roommate. "And what happened to my clarinet?"

"Bled happened," Wake replied, causing Suzanne to scream and rifle through the room for her clarinet. "April Fools!" At that, she charged out the door yelling "ROFLCOPTER!" over and over again.

"GET BACK IN HERE!" screeched Suzanne, chasing her down the hall, past Korah Lyons, who had just short-sheeted her roommate while she was in the bathroom. She had also taken out all of her USUK pictures and plastered them all over the walls in a very obnoxious form of revenge.

She also hid the catnip.

* * *

The _Bled Chronicles_ arrived in time for breakfast. The first thing people noticed about it was that it was printed on Bled-coloured newsprint. The masthead was printed upside-down, too, and a picture of Mr. Hugh and Charlie Tenterden ran on the front page with the following headline:

**MR. HUGH FRASER TO MARRY CHILDHOOD FLAME**

"Wait, wait, _what_?" Kitty Smith could be heard demanding from her room as she read the (obviously) April Fools' edition of the school paper.

_Mr. Hugh Fraser, Course Coordinator of the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction, has recently announced his intent to marry his childhood lover Charles Tenterden, currently a student at the same institution._

_The wedding ceremony is to be carried out at noon today in the Orientation Hall at IAHF. Attendees are encouraged to dress in bright colours._

"_We want everyone to dress as happily as possible, since bright colours symbolise eternal happiness," says Fraser. "For example, it's good luck to wear yellow to a wedding – sun colours mean great fortune, you know."_

_And indeed, great fortune has led to this star-crossed couple's marriage of destiny. Fraser and Tenterden purportedly met as children at the prestigious British preparatory school Eton, where Tenterden was Fraser's fag._

"_He made me carry his books for him," says Tenterden. "I thought he was a prince of some sort, almost a god. He commanded such dominance over me, yet he was so kind that I couldn't help but enjoy servicing him."_

_To highlight his marriage to the prince of his dreams, Tenterden plans to wear a dress to his wedding. The dress in question is strapless and in a lovely shade of blushing pink, accentuated by roses and pearls. He will also wear a tiara and veil. The groom approves of the ensemble wholeheartedly._

"_We are madly in love, and I will not wait another moment," declares Fraser with loving tears in his eyes. "I hope the rest of the school will understand our happiness. I will never give up my beloved Charlie; I will never let him down; I will never turn around and desert him."_

The article was an instant success. The real Charlie Tenterden nearly pissed himself with glee; Kitty and Anita quickly put up the April Fools' version of their chart (according to that, Megan was in a relationship with Andrew Yugi Kross, also known as Yu; Loki Shadow Reave was screwing all of the Angels; and Charlie Tenterden and Mr. Hugh _were _married). Everyone who popped into their room took that to be confirmation, and started rifling through their closets for neon colours. In this way, nearly half of IAHF's student population fell for the prank – and that half was made up of the new students and those who hadn't seen a lot of Mr. Hugh.

Upon finishing the article, Mary Crawford had stormed down to the Staff Section to give her husband a piece of her mind. She didn't get far; murika and Endland thought she was out to molest him and blobbed onto her. Howard the Spy, who had been walking past, saved her from further indignities by explaining the concept of April Fools' Day to her.

"Calm down, Mary, that was meant to be a joke," the spy said consolingly. "See the date? It's April first, or April Fools' Day. France is purported to be the first Nation to begin celebrating April Fools'; the theory claims that it started in 1564, when Charles XIV reformed the calendar by moving the start of the year from March to January. Some people never heard that he did, or they refused to give up the old calendar. They therefore celebrated New Years between March and April, and were the laughingstock of the rest of the country. Those people were then called 'poisson d'Avril', and the name stuck."

Mary blinked. "How did I ever forget?" she demanded. "In Italy we called it 'pesce d'Aprile'. We made _ravioli al pesce d'Aprile_ that day, and I always stuck fish on my siblings' backs."

"How _did_ you forget?" Howard echoed, snickering. "Fell out of practice?"

"Well, I stopped pranking after marriage," Mary replied, suitably chastened as she tried to pluck bits of Mochi off her dress. "Thank you for the reminder."

"No problem." Howard grinned. "Although…" and here he dropped his voice to a whisper. "_Sono sbarcati i marziani, chiudetevi tutti in casa_."

"Wait, what? People from Mars are coming, and we have to lock ourselves in our houses?" demanded Mary, springing up in alarm. "I must tell everyone!"

Howard laughed, slapping her back jovially. "Of course, of course!" he paused again. "Pesce d'Aprile!"

Mary screamed. "VAFFANCULO!" she screeched as she chased him down the hallway, not noticing the paper fish taped to her back.

* * *

The pranks continued all morning, especially with Arthur. He had, contrary to whatever he said the day before, managed to singlehandedly trick nearly everyone into believing that Vash grew pasta on trees (Feliciano nearly fainted at that), that he had discovered a colony of flying penguins, and that the Headmaster was going to rename Hetalia to 'NationStates: The World Assembly'. On the other hand, Alfred had managed to convince him that he had found a faerie mummy.

Not to be outdone, Francis (aided by Seychelles) slipped fish into everyone's beds, changed the plaques on the doors, and served the meals backwards. Feliciano promoted a miraculous diet pill that ought to be taken with a fish-rich diet, and managed to fool the Chibi Nations into believing that Martians _were_ coming. Berwald claimed that nylon stockings were all that was needed to turn black-and-white movies colourful. Sadly, Tino believed him.

"April, April, din dumma sill, jag kan lura dig vart jag vill," sighed Berwald as Tino tried to wrap his old movies in nylon stockings.

Im Yong-Soo got into the tradition as well by shaving ice and sending bowlfuls of them to everyone. Whoever got them had to grant the Korean's wishes, so the other Asians hid their bowls and pretended to not have received them.

"What do you mean?" Kiku demanded innocently as Yong-Soo asked him about the bowl of ice. "I haven't received anything of the sort! In the meantime, could you deliver this message to Arthur? I need his help."

"Of course, da-ze!" Yong-Soo exclaimed, taking the sealed message.

"Don't read the message! Denmark-san gave me this new device that I can use to tell if you read the message." Kiku brandished something that looked like a set of chopsticks. "Off you go!"

And off Yong-Soo trotted with the message, knocking on Arthur's door (which had Francis's plaque attached to it) and delivering the message to the Briton. Raising both eyebrows in amusement, Arthur took the paper and read it before writing another one and telling Yong-Soo to give it to Alfred, because he needed Alfred's help as well.

As Yong-Soo left, Arthur snickered and reread the paper. There, in Kiku's neat handwriting, was a message that Arthur's own brothers used to prank him with all the time.

_Don't laugh, don't smile. Hunt the gowk another mile._

* * *

By noon, the brightly-coloured students were getting restless as they piled into the appropriately-decorated Orientation Hall.

"When is the wedding going to start?" Yuri Yamaguchi demanded, staring at the red carpet running down the aisle. Even those who knew it was a prank decided to dress brightly and head down to the hall, snickering as they went. Kriss was sporting a brand-new Bled-coloured shirt; Jennifer wore a bright pink-and-purple polo shirt. Merka was in a bright blue dress that brought out her eyes.

The Staff entered the room as well, walking down along the side. They were dressed very oddly – Yao was wearing an obscenely short cheongsam, Ivan was dressed in an equally obscenely short dirndl, and Ludwig was dressed as a maid. Picardy was the wedding photographer, as expected, and he already had enough in his camera to last anyone a lifetime.

Suddenly, a song began to blare over the loudspeakers. "This isn't the wedding march!" Lucas Arch exclaimed, looking even more scandalised than he had been before (naturally he believed that Mr. Hugh _was_ indeed getting married to Charlie, and he heartily disapproved of it). "What is this? It's not even in a proper chur –"

"EVERYBODY, EVERYBODY IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE! EVERYODY, EVERYBODY IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE!"

Taylor Drews-Garcia and his mortified boyfriend Franklin Livingston had appeared in matching bright blue suits, dancing down the aisle side-by-side. Taylor seemed very into the dancing; Franklin looked as if he'd rather be in the Golag. Merka and Kriss started laughing and clapping; everyone rose to their feet.

Then came Feliciano, dressed in robes he obviously 'borrowed' from the Vatican. Even though the mentions of religion were omitted from the song, the Papally-clad Feliciano raised several cheers from the Angels as he cavorted down the aisle.

Quickly following him were Megan and Kitty; they were clad in matching lime-green outfits. The students who fell for the prank were looking suitably flabbergasted as Megan and Kitty did the disco down the aisle, quickly followed by a poker-faced Arthur in a bright pink nurse outfit. The Anglophiles cheered.

As the next verse of the song began, Janice and Mary made their appearance. Mary had been rather reluctant in joining the festivities, but she danced her way down the aisle nonetheless. Janice turned into a blob halfway there, resulting in Howard and Assbitch diving out of the crowd to drag her off.

Alfred and Francis entered in almost-matching Butler in the Buff outfits (eliciting cheers from the America Adorers and Francis's Femmes, of course). Alfred had bear ears; Francis had cat ears. The Frenchman was trying to lift up his already obscenely short apron; Jennifer thought it was fortunate that he had his censor rose on as well.

Mr. Hugh came cavorting in with Nurse Florance Nightingail. Mr. Hugh was dressed in his red-and-blue uniform; Florance was wearing bright pink. They were followed by Gilbert and Antonio, who were also clad in Butler in the Buff outfits with bunny ears. Chibitalia and Holy Roman Empire preceded Workbitch into the room; Chibitalia was in a frilly pink dress and Holy Roman Empire was dressed as a bright blue ring bearer.

Jennifer was overcome with a fit of the giggles as the usually stoic Workbitch entered and started dancing as well. He, like her, still wore his marker moustache. The victims of the prank were now almost certain that this was a joke, but they continued to clap and cheer as Megan, Kitty, Janice, Mary, Taylor, and Franklin reappeared and Workbitch danced his way into the middle of them, crouching down to let Mr. Hugh leapfrog over him.

Mr. Hugh ran down the aisle as everyone cheered, before starting to make his way back up again. The other members of the wedding party danced past him; once he passed Franklin and Taylor, the Course Coordinator pointed to the door. All eyes followed the finger.

True to the article, Charlie had been duly outfitted in the grandmother of all poufy, pink, frilly gowns. He bore a bouquet of pink roses and myrtle, and wore a tiara with a veil that seemed almost a mile long. The only thing exceeding its length was the train; that train could probably put Princess Diana's wedding train to shame.

"Whoa, whoa!" whooped Kriss as Merka wolf-whistled. Charlie shimmied up the aisle and Mr. Hugh skipped down the aisle; they met and –

"Did he just _grope_ him?" cackled Kitty. "Did Mr. Hugh just… _grope_ Charlie?

The older students burst into hysterical laughter, as the 'bride' and 'groom' pranced up the aisle and the younger students rubbed their eyes and wondered if everyone danced like that at weddings.

"Wait, wait, this is all a joke, right?" Susanna Black-White demanded suddenly. "You're all kidding, right?"

"HAPPY APRIL FOOLS!" yelled everyone else.

"Oh, guess what day of the week it is, too!" Peter Kirkland exclaimed suddenly. The song paused, and then abruptly changed.

"IT'S FRIDAY, FRIDAY, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY!" cackled Alfred.

After all, there was no better end to an elaborate crack wedding than singing the My Immortal of the music industry.

* * *

"Never again," sighed Mr. Hugh later that evening as the festivities died down. Mary, who had arrived at the Staff Section with her numerous boxes and bags in time for dinner, hid a smile.

"You weren't going to marry him, were you?"

"Of course not," snorted Mr. Hugh. "But it was April Fools' Day, so we had to humour everyone."

"He's fine with it, isn't he?"

Mr. Hugh laughed shortly. "I'm only concerned that he's going to get ideas," he replied. "And then before we know it he'll have me tied up in a chair and blackmailed into signing a wedding contract."

"Poor you," Mary snickered as Mr. Hugh opened the door to her room for her. "Well, thank you for… bringing me here."

"You're welcome, Mary," he replied, kissing her forehead.

"Mr. Hugh! Mr. Hugh, da-ze! You have mail," gasped Im Yong-Soo as he arrived with two letters. "This one's from Francis, and this one's your dispatch, da-ze."

Mr. Hugh nodded, taking the messages. He opened the letter from Francis first, looked at Yong-Soo, and snickered.

"Very well," he said, taking out a document from a nearby plothole and scribbling something onto it before sealing it and giving it to the exhausted Korean. "I'm afraid I can't answer Francis's pleas for help without Shinbun-kun's assistance. Please, take this message to him."

"I will," panted Yong-Soo as he ran off. Mr. Hugh pocketed the dispatch, snickering.

"Hunting gowks again?" Mary asked as she watched Yong-Soo disappear.

"Indeed."

* * *

**Notes:** Those pranks pulled by Staff members were actually April Fools' pranks that have been pulled in the past. The British seem to be notorious at pranking. The BBC once suggested that Big Ben was going to go digital; they actually did do the pasta-tree prank. Funny how everyone in Britain scrambled to get their very own pasta-tree afterwards.

The crack wedding was, as you may have guessed, based off the T-Mobile Royal Wedding. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Where did they get such a good Harry impersonator?

Your regularly-scheduled crack disguised as Serious Business™ will resume next chapter.


	55. E Mare Libertas

**Additional Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the poems mentioned by Arthur (yes, they do exist as poems. Google them), except the last one that he created (which _was _based off the picture of Francis with the bouquet of roses, standing in the rain with the feathers and stuff).

Oh, yes, and Bella Swan belongs to SMeyer. Tom Bombadil and his poetry belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. OFUM belongs to Miss Cam.

* * *

**Part V**

"He cheated! He's too damn tall!"

"Calm down, Alfred."

"But he cheated! That stupid cheating Commie cheated!"

"Oh, you're just in denial," Ivan said, grinning. "I beat you fair and square."

"Did not!" pouted Alfred. "You made too many three-point shots!"

"And you air-balled too much," retorted Ivan.

"Shut up! You probably drugged my food so that I would do that!"

"Alfred, don't be ridiculous," groaned Arthur.

It was Sunday morning, and Alfred was still sore over the basketball game the night before. Francis groaned and shot a look at Arthur that clearly said, 'don't argue with him; it'll get you nowhere'. Francis had his philosophical moments like the rest of them, after all.

"Oh, man! I can't wait to teach tomorrow!" Peter exclaimed happily as he bounced into the room and plopped into his seat, grinning from ear and ear. Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples.

"You have your lessons planned out, right?" he asked the Sealander, who grinned and nodded.

"Of course! I'm going to be a better teacher than you, Jerkland! I even got Seborga and Wy to help me teach –"

"Ciao, all you lovely people," Seborga added, winking at the room at large. He slung an arm around Wy; the Australian Micronation smacked him with her paintbrush.

"Get away from me," she growled.

"Why?" whined Seborga. Pause. "Pun not intended!"

"Shut up!" Wy smacked him again and frowned.

* * *

"Classes start tomorrow!" whined Karen DuLay as she put the finishing touches on her two hundredth batch of cookies. "And we don't even have any classes taught by Luddy!"

"At least we get to have Roderich as a teacher!" sighed Azure dreamily as she perched on the counter, tail flicking lazily. "Music, with my darling Roddy…"

"He's not as manly as Ludwig," sniffed Karen as she continued to decorate her cookies.

"He conquered North Italy!" Azure protested. "And you don't have to be manly to be awesome. His piano playing is so expressive. You know what they say about pianists…"

"What?" Karen asked, distractedly sprinkling sprinkles onto some of the cookies.

"They're very good with their hands," Azure replied mischievously.

Karen groaned. "_Sure_," she deadpanned.

Lucas Arch popped his head into the room. "Good afternoon," he said, tipping his halo at them. "Those cookies look good, Karen."

"Aw, thanks. Ludwig never said anything like that about my baking before," Karen replied, giggling. Azure raised both eyebrows.

"Mind if I take one?" Lucas asked. "Surely Ludwig won't miss one, yes?"

"Certainly," Karen replied, looking flustered. The Angel took a heart-shaped cookie and ate it slowly.

"Mm, heavenly." Lucas's eyes twinkled. "I'm off to have some tea with my friends, would the two of you ladies like to come along?"

"Oh, we'd love to!" Karen exclaimed. She paused. "Well, I'd love to. I don't know about Azure."

"Free tea is free tea," replied Azure, shrugging. "Why not."

They followed the Angel out of the kitchen, Karen clutching her platter of baked goods. As they headed to an empty meeting room next to the library (the League of Extraordinary Anglophiles used that meeting room often, but today Lucas and the Angels had reserved it), Azure snickered at Karen's flustered expression.

"Got a new Lust Object, eh?" she teased, jabbing jokingly at Karen's sides.

"N-no! I'm… just looking around for other fish," Karen replied lamely.

"Sure, and I like dogs," Azure replied drily.

"You do? Ludwig likes dogs, too!"

Azure facepalmed. Or, to be more accurate, face_paw_ed.

* * *

Mr. Allen entered the Hospital Wing, nodding at the nurses as they tended to various patients. Kiku was in for a radiation check; he nodded at Mr. Allen as the other walked past.

Nurse Florance's office was at the end of the hall, next to Dr. Siegmund Froyd's office. Her room was elegantly minimalistic, decorated in light-hearted spring pastels. The Head Nurse sat behind a handsome walnut desk, with a vase of daffodils and a stack of forms to be filed accompanying her.

"Ah, Mr. Allen! I have the updated inventories," she said, handing a file to the Course Coordinator as he took a seat in front of the desk.

"We have the antidote to Aura of Smooth once more, I see," Mr. Allen remarked as he looked down the list. "I don't know if that's a sufficient supply in the face of an attack on the school, though." The dispatch delivered on April Fools', backdated to 31 March and therefore meant to be taken seriously, had been a warning. Apparently Lilith Wydenbrooke was royally pissed about the death of Alexandra Bonnefoy – and when a Mary Sue was royally pissed, things tended to go badly.

Even worse, Lilith somehow knew that Alexandra's murderer was affiliated with IAHF. She had held doubts before about attacking IAHF, but now her sights were set. She had reported to Alexandra's replacement, a girl named Cariana Crystalline Kirkland (try saying that three times fast), that she intended to blame Alexandra's murder on IAHF and use that as a rallying point for the subsequent attack.

Mr. Allen wished that it _had_ been an April Fools' joke.

"Do you have a date for the attack?" Florance asked worriedly, leaning over and patting his shoulder. "If it isn't happening within this month, we might be able to… er, prepare everyone for the attack."

"The PPC suspects that they will invade in May or June, since Lilith's claims are still falling on deaf ears with her enemies." Mr. Allen hid his face in his hands. "Why do I have to do this?" he demanded.

"I would answer, but I think that's a rhetorical question," Florance sighed. "How is Takara's baby?"

"The baby is due any time between May and July," replied Mr. Allen.

"And you haven't told Mary about this?" Mary Crawford was now an assistant librarian to Monaco, and spent her days reading behind the librarian's desk.

"No. I try to put the welfare of the school before my personal problems," Mr. Allen muttered.

"But Dr. Froyd diagnosed you with Dissociative Identity Disorder!" exclaimed Florance, looking shocked. "You know perfectly well that we can't afford to have a Course Coordinator with two personalities in such a time like this!"

"That's something everyone's told me…" Mr. Allen sighed. "But Hugh is part of me. To take him away is like…" he shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not merge with him, then?" Florance wondered. "Dr. Froyd knows how to combine personalities through psychoanalysis."

Mr. Allen stood up. "I don't want to talk about this," he snapped, heading for the door with the file. "Thank you for the inventory, Florance."

When he left, Florance frowned. "What did _I_ do?" she wondered.

* * *

"Why is the International Relations class on Thursday?" bawled Natashia Fernandez as the first semester students gathered in front of Sealand's classroom on Monday morning.

"Because you save the worst for last, duh," replied Sabrina.

"Shut up! International Relations is fun!"

Peter Kirkland arrived on the scene with Mr. Allen close behind. "Hey, everyone! Into the classroom!" the Sealander commanded as Seborga and Wy came running onto the scene, followed by some Micronation Mochis. Seland, Seborgia, and Why were looking remarkably surly, despite their diminutive sizes.

The students filed into the classroom, with the members of SPAM in the front row. SPAM, or the Society for the Promotion of Awesome Micronations, had been lurking under the student group radar. Compared to the Anglophiles and the Nerd Group, they were almost as invisible as the Invisible Nations support group.

"All right, welcome to History of Micronations class! I'm Peter, this is Wy, and that's Seborga! We're overseen by Mr. Allen, since he's got nothing better to do –"

"You know I'm only doing this because Arthur couldn't be buggered to," growled Mr. Allen. "And Berwald and Tino claimed to be busy."

"Oh, yeah, they apparently found the corpse of some girl in the sauna the other day," Peter said. Several students cringed.

"Who was it?" asked Kriss.

"Some chick with wavy brown hair," replied Peter nonchalantly. "When we did that autopsy thingy, we found out that she was apparently the victim of Jerkland's unicorn."

"His unicorn killed someone? No way!" screamed Sakura Crystal Kirkland.

"Who was the girl? Was she someone we know?" demanded Azure.

"I think Alfred identified her as… something Swan."

Tori Troutman gasped. "Bella?" she demanded.

"Yeah, that was her first name!"

There were cheers from a majority of students. "I need to find that unicorn and give it my eternal gratitude," declared Karin Guarez.

"The only problem is that you can't see the unicorn," Sabrina pointed out.

"Simple. I'll sit around and wait for it to come. Unicorns like virgins, after all."

"Oops, we were hoping to use Megsie-wegsie as unicorn bait," Taylor Drews-Garcia joked. Megan threw a paper airplane at him.

"Shut up, you wouldn't work, either!"

"Unicorns don't even like boys!"

"Enough about unicorns!" snapped Mr. Allen. "Back to the original topic. This is the History of Micronations class, where we will discuss the history behind these so-called 'Nations' that are so small that they rarely appear on maps, are not accorded spots in the United Nations, and not internationally recognised –"

"But you know we totally should get acknowledged, since we're awesome like that!" added Peter.

"Er, yes," muttered Mr. Allen. "Anyways, before we begin today's lecture on… which one are we talking about today?"

"Sealand, of course!" snapped Peter. "And then next week we're talking about Wy, and then Seborga. Then Hutt River, and –"

"I see," Mr. Allen said abruptly. "Before we talk about Sealand's history, we have another important announcement."

"Yeah, it's about Project Roswell!" exclaimed Peter.

That got the students awake.

* * *

The Project had its roots in the Garden of Species Enlightenment back at the Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth. It also drew influences from the maze in the _Harry Potter_ books. That alone should give people ideas about what would happen during the Project.

"I'm afraid that the morning training sessions will not be continuing," sighed Mr. Allen to the class at large. "Instead, Ludwig will be coaching GrammarBootCamp every Tuesday morning on the front lawn. It is completely optional – and when I say 'completely optional', I mean 'if you don't show up I will convince Lovino to send his Mafia after you'. Simple, yes?"

The students shivered. Once again, Mr. Allen had proved that he was eviller than his diplomatic counterpart.

"The reason why we are doing this, though, is because the stadium is closed. It will be closed until June. Oh, before I forget, there are no finals for any of your classes this semester." There were cheers. "But don't get too excited. You see, the reason why we aren't giving finals for Canon 101, History, or any of your other classes is because…" he paused for dramatic effect. "You will be partaking in our special Project."

"Project Roswell?" Lucia asked excitedly.

"Yes, Project Roswell. Tony has worked hard to provide us with a layout. Using his elaborate crop circle-creating programs, we have designed a hedge maze in the stadium."

"Wow, that sounds like something out of _Harry Potter_!" gasped Laurel Martin, bouncing excitedly.

"Wizard Arthur said some of you would have this reaction to the news," Mr. Allen sighed. "At the centre of the maze is the Effie Tower, and the objective is to be the first to reach the Tower."

Peter piped up. "Oh, did you ever see Jerkland's binoculars? He was accusing me of stealing it a while back."

"I heard that Lovino stole it," Seborga answered. "Dunno if he returned it, though."

"Lovely," grumbled Mr. Allen. "I'll talk to him about the binoculars later. Now…" he paused again before taking out four lists. "We have divided the main Staff into four groups, each of them based on a suite of cards. Signups will be posted for each of the teams. You will be spending nights in the maze, so make sure to supply yourself."

"That doesn't seem so hard," Karen DuLay proclaimed. "We've all been through the Survival Seminar." Everyone else glared at her, remembering how she had set their tents on fire during that camping trip from Hell.

"That's what you think!" Peter exclaimed. "We've got all sorts of stuff in there!"

"Yes, at random intervals you will come across milestones that will ask you a question about Hetalia or history," Mr. Allen agreed. "If you answer incorrectly…" he trailed off menacingly. "Well, I don't want to spoil everything," he drawled.

"Meanie," whispered Megan. Eraser glared at her.

"There's also big monsters!" added Peter, extending his arms and making growling noises. "Like Norway's trolls and stuff! And you have to tell the difference between creatures in Hetalia and creatures not in Hetalia, or else you could die!" He paused. "Or something like that."

"So we have to decide the difference between Ludwig's dogs and… like, any other dogs, right?" asked Kiri Olaveja.

"There's a lot of leeway with that," whispered Karin to Tori. "I mean, what creatures_ aren't_ in Hetalia?"

"Dragons and the Giant Squid," Tori whispered back. "I think there_ is_ an octopus, though."

Mr. Allen coughed loudly. "Travelling in pairs is recommended, but please stay with members of your own team. The first team to reach the Effie Tower wins… Elisabeta's taking care of the prizes, so I have no idea what she's planning."

Excited murmurs ran throughout the student body.

"That being said, let's continue with the class!" Peter exclaimed. "All right, let's talk about my history! I started out as a Maunsell Fort, built during World War Two by Jerkland's government to defend against German mine-laying aircraft. Since I was outside the three-mile territorial water claim of the United Kingdom, I was therefore in international waters. After the war, all of the forts except me were dismantled. In 1967, former English major Paddy Roy Bates settled in at my house. He called me the Principality of Sealand and became Prince Roy Bates of Sealand. A 1968 court case by an English court – since he was still an English citizen at the time – ruled that I was outside British jurisdiction and therefore not part of the United Kingdom. That was the first _de facto_ recognition of me as my own Principality. Prince Bates followed up with a constitution, stamps and coins, a flag, and a national anthem."

The students started taking notes. Who knew what essays Peter would make them write regarding his territory?

Luckily, all they had to do for homework was to write lyrics to "_E Mare Libertas"_, the Sealandic national anthem. But that proved to be difficult, too, since song writing wasn't for everyone.

Look at Rebecca Black's lyrics, after all…

* * *

"Sealand, oh Sealand, Sealand, oh Sealand, how your flag doth – OH, FUCK THIS," growled Megan later in the library. Their first music lesson with Roderich and Antonio had ended with several sore fingers due to scales and strumming without picks. Who knew that pressing piano keys in consecutive order could be such a bitch? "The song's pretty, but IT'S DAMNED HARD TO PUT WORDS TO IT!"

_Welcome to the songwriter's world_, remarked Luna Correa.

"Shut up! You know what, I'm going to BS this," snapped Megan, starting to scribble furiously at her paper. "Sealand, oh Sealand, from the sea you get your freedom. Fuck your mother, too…"

"I don't think Peter wants an obscene national anthem," Jennifer pointed out sweetly.

"I don't need your fucking judgement," snapped her roommate.

"Maybe we should get Tom Bombadil to write this!" Loki declared from the other side of the library, earning her a nasty glare from Mary. Anyone who has ever heard Bombadil poetry (sadly – or is that luckily? – not a lot at IAHF) cringed.

"You're evil!" hissed Carolina Brown. "I wouldn't wish Bombadil poetry on anyone, much less Sealand!"

"What's that, anyways?" Susanna Black-White demanded, putting aside her German conjugation exercises to look at Carolina's lyrics.

"Homework for History of Micronations," replied Carolina, covering up her work.

"I meant, what's Bombadil poetry?"

Loki jumped up on the table and started to recite, "Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow; bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow. Green were his girdle and his breeches all of leather –"

"Stop it!" screamed Carolina and Franklin in unison.

"He wore in his tall hat a swan-wing feather. He lives up under Hill, where the Withywindle ran from a grassy well down into the dingle," continued Loki blithely, not hearing protests from everyone else.

"Stop, stop, stop!" snapped Agent Anora Jensai, who was a talking dragon peering in from the library window; she couldn't quite fit in. Her mini-Aragog Ronil was trying to use her tail as a fur curler, but tails didn't work as well as toasters, it seemed. "Stop it! It burns us, Precious!"

"Hey, come merry dol! Derry dol! And merry-o " At that moment, Blaise slapped a hand over Loki's mouth and dragged her off her table.

"Wow, that sounds like something a drunk Arthur would try to write," remarked Monaco the librarian.

"Impromptu poetry lesson, then!" snapped said Briton (speak of the devil and the devil shall appear) as he popped into the room brandishing a sheaf of papers. "Bad poetry. Let's talk about it."

"Yay! Poetry time!" squealed Sakura for no apparent reason.

"As you know, April at Alfred's house is National Poetry Month, which was started by the Academy of American Poets in 1996. And since I have just discovered a collection of horrendously unoriginal poetry in this fandom, I thought it would be fitting for us to tell you about them."

"Are you going to read them?" Shoste Thermo asked, waving her blood-red chimera tail lazily.

"Of course not; I'm not going to make your ears bleed," snapped Arthur. "I am not _that_ evil."

"Surprise, surprise," remarked Mighty Major J sarcastically.

Arthur coughed. "Poetry is a hard thing to get right, so I'll just point out what made these poems unoriginal. First off, poetry is a literary art that uses language for aesthetic and evocative qualities. That means the words in the poem should ideally have similar rhythms, feelings, and sounds. If you can join the stanzas together and turn your poem into prose, then that's not very poetic poetry, is it?"

"But what about free form and stuff?" demanded Emma Markowska.

"Free form still uses things like assonance, alliteration, and onomatopoeia to create effect," Arthur replied. "Poems are also meant to be open to interpretation; ideally it should achieve deeper meaning than what is first read."

"Yeah, yeah, get to the point," Mighty Major J retorted.

"Detention, Mr. J. You will be writing 'I will not backtalk the British Empire' in Bled ink until your hands bleed," Arthur snapped, as Arther and Artur blobbed onto the student and dragged him out. "Where was I? Yes. So, why are these poems unoriginal?" he brandished the papers again. "They describe the glaringly obvious, don't they? Look at this. 'Once upon a time in my history, there were times when I hid away from everyone else.' You call this _poetry_?" He threw the paper onto the table. "This poem is about Kiku. Everyone can tell that. Look, all throughout the poem it just says what _he_ says. It doesn't use the words to paint a broader picture of Kiku. It's almost a restatement of his character song! I'm sure without music, this poem would be useless. There's no rhythm or rhyme, and even if you say it's free-form, it reads more like prose that has been systematically chopped into columns. This is _not_ poetry."

Lucy Robinson-Honda scrambled to read the poem, drooling all over the paper as she did so. Arthur made a shooing gesture at her, as if he was scared that she was going to slobber all over him.

"Let's look at this one about Ivan, then! This reads more like a stream of consciousness than anything else. Even if so, why does it repeat the word 'one' over and over again? It makes Ivan seem like a robot!" Saying that, he faked a Russian accent, declaring, "Oh, you're too good for me, China, oh I'm madly in love with – one one one." That last statement was delivered as if Ivan had been saying 'kolkolkol', causing several students to burst into laughter.

"Arthur, this isn't a stand-up comedy room," Monaco called from her desk, despite her obvious amusement.

"I'm just pointing out some pitfalls in Hetalia poetry!" Arthur coughed. "Next one is about Gilbert. Why is he constantly asking rhetorical questions? Why does the author randomly interrupt a question by putting the rest on a separate line? Why is Gilbert sounding so goddamned _bipolar_ in here?"

"Gilbert's not bipolar!" exclaimed Erika Verena von Richtofen-Marlowe. "At least, he doesn't seem to be that way in the Canon…"

"So why does this poem begin with Gilbird and end with questions? It doesn't make an ounce of sense." Arthur skimmed another poem. "Finally, there's a difference between poems and song lyrics. Some poems might make themselves good song lyrics, but most song lyrics do not make good poems because they require music to maintain their charm. See this one about Alfred? It reads more like song lyrics than an actual poem. This poem could lend itself to expressive prose, too, but there's not much charm in the poem for it to stand on its own. Add a tune, perhaps, and it could be lovely. The grammar can use some work too – oh yes, you're not ee cummings; you can't fuck with grammar until you know how it works."

"What does it even say?" Hotaru yawned, looking up from her own anthem lyrics.

"Things about flying and freedom. See, the poem has potential. 'Release the invisible chains that you hold against me. Let me spread my wings and fly.' That's all nice and expressive, but there's not much else. It could just as well be written into a story. If you want a poem to stand by itself, it's got to have its own charm and rhythm that could probably be spoiled by prose."

"My poetry's amazing!" snapped Aki Chung-Feng. "Let's see you write a poem, Arthur!" The other peeved poets in the audience agreed.

Arthur frowned. "If I must," he huffed, rocking back and forth before starting to speak again. "The birds flew overhead, midnight black; the sky was cloudy grey. The wheat field crackled in the wind; parched yellow was the grain."

"Cool story, bro," Megan whispered to Jennifer, who snickered.

"Black feathers fell from crying crows," continued Arthur, looking off into the distance, "they mimicked falling rain."

"Did the crows mimic rain, or did the feathers do that?" wondered Kriss.

"Within this scene the lover stood, cold breeze blowing his hair," Arthur sighed, looking surprisingly wistful for once. "He looked off to see the lonely grave…" he paused, "of a maid so fair."

"This poem is familiar," Natashia Fernandez whispered. "I think I've seen a picture of Francis like that."

"To her grave he brought his love; he placed white roses there." Arthur finished, nodding. "There you go. Happy?"

"That…" Aki shrugged. "I bet I can outdo that!"

"I challenge you, then," Arthur replied. "If you can outdo me, I _won't_ force-feed you my scones."

"Ooh, the stakes just got higher!" whistled Birgit Kurvits.

"Challenge accepted," Aki declared smugly.

"No using parts of song lyrics, too. There are some poems in here that do that. Can you say 'unoriginal'?" Arthur shrugged. "That concludes my impromptu lesson. I'm now late for tea by fifteen minutes. Cheerio." And with that, he left the library.

"Quick, someone help me write a poem!" Aki hissed as his footsteps receded.

* * *

**Notes:** Signups for the groups starts next chapter.


	56. Pirate Arthur's Canon Cannon

**Additional Disclaimer:** Telescreens and Big Brother belong to George Orwell. The canon cannon belongs to whomever first thought that up (wasn't me, I'm sure).

* * *

**Part VI**

"Numbers!"

"Uno!"

"Ni!"

Despite it not being training, Ludwig still insisted on calling numbers. Despite the fact that Kiku and Feliciano were not obliged to be with Ludwig on the front lawn at the usual ungodly hour of training, they still followed. Old habits die hard.

"Gut! We now commence GrammarBootCamp with common misspellings! First off, let me stress to you the _importance_ of having a proper _spellchecker_! We are _sick_ and _tired_ of seeing things like 'eached', 'eachother', 'qtuie', and 'daugther'. Those can be easily picked up by your spellchecker."

As if in agreement, Euorpe, Ukrane, Amercia, and United Kingdon glared at the students.

"However, there are also other misspellings that don't get caught by the spellchecker," continued Ludwig, "like words that happen to be legitimate but are misspelled in context, or a legitimate word that doesn't get recognized by the spellchecker's dictionary and therefore auto-corrected to something utterly preposterous."

"For example, I've heard horror stories about 'Cupertino' replacing 'cooperation'!" Feliciano exclaimed.

"And there are differences between an 'acute angle' and a 'cute angel'," added Kiku. Angelterre bounced onto his shoulder, flapping his little Mochi wings irritably.

"Exactly! Now, drop down and begin your push-ups!" Ludwig blew the whistle. "What's the difference between 'accept' and 'except'?"

"The word 'except' is used," gasped Franklin, "to exclude something. 'Accept' is a verb that means you… willingly receive something."

"Gut, gut. You!" Ludwig whirled around and pointed at KyAnna. "What's the difference between 'canon' and 'cannon'? If you do not get this right…" he trailed off threateningly. Feliciano screamed in terror at the sheer menace exuding from Ludwig's words.

"Don't hurt me, Ludwig!" the Italian whimpered, waving his white flag from behind a nonplussed Kiku.

"He's not going to hurt _you_, Feli-kun," the Japanese remarked calmly. "He's going to hurt the fangirls."

"But he looks so _scary_," whined Feliciano.

"If you continue to talk about how scary I am, I_ will_ hurt you," Ludwig snapped before turning his attention back to KyAnna. "So, Miss KyAnna, do you have an answer?"

"E-eh…" whimpered KyAnna. "A cannon is a giant weapon…"

"Gut. What about 'canon'?" Ludwig loomed over her as she continued to do push-ups, leering.

"It's… the… uh, book that the fanfics are based on," the Dark angel replied, trying to look anywhere but up at Ludwig.

"It could also be the continuum in which fanworks are based, or the standards used to compare the quality of said fanworks. Canon is descriptive; fanfiction is prescriptive. Fans are 'forbidden' to contradict canon," Carolina Brown blurted out, causing some gasps from the other students. Talking out of turn in Ludwig's class was usually a Very Bad Idea.

Ludwig turned to her. "I did not ask _you_ the question, Miss Brown," he growled.

"Er, sorry…" muttered Carolina, turning red. Dorothy sent her a sympathetic look.

"Destchland, take Miss Brown to Pirate Arthur's ship," instructed Ludwig, and the blocky German Mochi grunted in affirmation as he blobbed onto Carolina and dragged her away.

"What's going to happen to her?" Dorothy asked, concerned.

"Pirate Arthur just got a new canon cannon, and he needed some fodder for it," replied Ludwig.

* * *

By the time GrammarBootCamp was over, Jennifer wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of the week. At least ten students aside from Carolina were victims of the new canon cannon, and some of them were complaining about their singed hair.

"How am I ever going to get Roddy's attention with hair like this?" Wake (who was a lolwat, whatever that was. She looked as if the I Can Has Cheezburger cat had jumped in a vat of neon green hair dye and then bought multicoloured contact lenses) "Look! It's all patchy and gross!"

"At least it's not yellow," Ever Li pointed out innocently.

"Aaugh! Don't say that!" screamed the lolwat as she floated away.

Jennifer somehow managed to stagger into the building, wincing. Somewhere next to her, Kriss was declaring something about her leg muscles being French.

"Why's that, Krissy-kins?" Megan asked as Merka slung a comforting arm around her girlfriend.

"They're gonna go on strike any minute," Kriss mumbled, leaning heavily against Merka.

"Hey, signups are posted!" Lyssie Blue called from the cafeteria doors. Bulletin boards lined the walls outside the dining hall; they usually announced things like the menu and meeting dates for student groups. There had been talk of doing signups for football teams, but now that Project Roswell had been revealed…

There were four teams: red hearts, blue spades, green clubs, and yellow diamonds. The Vocaloid students (and Kriss) were disappointed that they weren't red spades, blue diamonds, green clubs, and yellow hearts, but that was a different story. No student could sign up for multiple teams, and there were to be no changes after the final lists were posted on Friday. Once a student signed up for a team, he or she must be committed to it for the rest of the semester. Only students who have spent two semesters, not counting the current semester, at IAHF may apply.

"Failure to adhere to these rules will result in pain," read Jennifer as the first semester students started to squabble for pens.

The first list was for the Hearts, with Ludwig leading the team as its king. Kiku was the queen and Feliciano was the jack. The second list was for the Spades, with Alfred as king, Arthur as queen, and Yao as jack. The third list was for the Clubs; Ivan was king, Elisabeta was queen, and Roderich was jack. The final list was for Diamonds, with Francis as king, Liechtenstein as queen, and Vash as jack.

"I bet some people are going to join the team that their Lust Object is on," Alice Wang remarked as Karen DuLay and Lucy Robinson-Honda joined the Hearts for Ludwig and Kiku, respectively. A majority of USUK shippers joined the Spades. Sara Parker complained about the lack of Canada.

"I think Canada's on the Diamond team, anyways," Ever Li pointed out. "It seems like they're using the playing cards from ArteStella."

"Seriously? But that means Prussia and Sealand won't have teams! Can we have a Team Joker?" Falaba Witch wondered aloud.

"That's Spades, stupid," Jillian the Pikachu (who somehow looked a lot like Nataliya, even though electric mice and knife-wielding blonde psychopaths were about as similar as pizzas were to scones) retorted, causing several people to groan.

"I didn't mean that type of Joker!" Falaba Witch exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" the ever-innocent Susanna Black-White asked.

Lucas coughed. "Joker is another term for the relationship between Alfred and Arthur. It puts their last names together. Jones and Kirkland, Jo-Ker, see?"

"But Arthur's last name isn't spelled 'Kerkland'," Susanna muttered, pouting.

"We've already established that," sniffed Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy.

"I didn't hear anything about that," Rinaldia Aria Winston Rivera whined, breaking Falaba Witch's glasses with her Miku Hatsune-esque voice. "I was wondering why the term 'Joker' appeared so often in USUK fanfic summaries!"

The second and third semester students entered the dining hall for breakfast once the doors opened, leaving the first semester students outside to fight over the pens.

* * *

"I haven't seen you in a while," Takara noted as a way of greeting Mr. Hugh as he entered her room with Nurse Suzine's report. "I'm nearly ending the second trimester now."

"I missed you, too," Mr. Hugh remarked with a half-smile as he took a seat. "Everything seems to be going well with you – that's one less thing for me to worry about."

"You have a lot on your plate, don't you?" Takara asked, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry for contributing to that."

Mr. Hugh sighed and leaned back in his seat. "What's done is done," he replied sagely, blue eyes downcast. To Takara, it seemed as if he was trying to imitate Atlas.

"You've the weight of the world on your shoulders, Hugh," she murmured, standing up and placing her hands on his shoulders. He closed his eyes as she kneaded the taut muscle there, taking deep breaths and savouring her touch.

"You've done your fair share of contributing to that," he remarked after a moment. "Don't get in trouble again, you hear me?"

Takara giggled. "Aye aye, captain."

Mr. Hugh laughed shortly and opened his eyes as soon as she removed her hands again. "How was your April Fools?"

"I heard something about two Agents who tried to replace the Intelligence Department's reports with Flowerslash," Takara replied, amusedly watching Mr. Hugh's confused expression.

"Flowerslash?" echoed the Course Coordinator, not quite sure if he wanted to know what that entailed. And he would be correct. Flowerslash could potentially destroy the brain in a process similar to Suvian Overheated Cerebrum Syndrome.

"You don't want to know," Takara sniggered. "How was yours?"

Mr. Hugh looked thoughtful. "Well, the IAHF Staff definitely knows how to celebrate April Fools," he said after a moment.

Takara smiled wistfully. "And Mary's doing fine, right?" she asked after a moment.

"Hm?" A shadow crossed the Course Coordinator's face. Takara blinked.

"She's out of the student section, right?" she asked. That didn't seem to be _too_ prying.

Mr. Hugh nodded, although Takara could tell that he was still brooding about something else. She wasn't quite sure what it was.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon ushered in the first lesson taught by Kuro Kiku (Dark Kiku thought his adjective was too obvious, and decided to have it changed to the very Japanese and very omnious Kuro Kiku) and McCarthy Alfred. The two of them entered with suspicious glances everywhere (especially at each other). The classroom itself resembled more like a Dark Lord's dungeon than a traditional classroom.

"Welcome to 'Evolution of War'," Kuro Kiku said calmly as the students watched him like birds facing down a lawnmower. "In this class we will discuss the history of weaponry and the impact they had on their victims. We will look into the Witch Hunts of the Early Modern Period, the Nazi Concentration camps, Pol Pot's Cambodian Genocide, and other infamous incidents of brutal violence." He paused. "In this classroom, we will cover topics that may be sensitive. You may choose to not attend class, but then you get to experience life in an iron maiden first-hand."

The students twitched.

"Now, I am told that this class should only be intended to help you with any Darker and Edgier Hetalia stories that you would like to write. You are discouraged from carrying out what we talk about in this class in real life."

"You!" barked McCarthy Alfred suddenly, pointing dramatically at Mitsuki Horenake. "Are you concealing a plot from us?"

Mitsuki's eyes went wide. "It's just a picture of Feliciano!"

McCarthy Alfred strode over and took the picture. "I wouldn't think so!" he declared. "A picture of a Staff member suggests a possible hit list! You have zeroed in on Feliciano as your target; therefore you intend on destroying him! And that means you intend on bringing down the establishment!"

"Why would I want to hurt my poor Feli-kun?" Mitsuki demanded indignantly.

"That is all but a front!" screeched McCarthy Alfred. "You pretend to fangirl Feliciano so that you can try to get closer to him! Feliciano must be warned to keep himself constantly vigilant about your designs against him! Perhaps you are planning to stage a stampede? In that case, you could make his death look like an accident!"

"Calm down, Mr. Jones!" exclaimed Cristiana Moretti. "She likes anything that's cute!"

"THAT ONLY SERVES TO FURTHER MY CASE!" McCarthy Alfred slammed the picture of Feliciano against the blackboard (no shiny whiteboards for them, oh no. Chalk and nails against blackboards were instruments of evil all on their own). "LOOK AT THE FLUFFY MINT BUNNIES! CAN YOU SAY THAT ANY GIRL WHO LIKES FLUFFY MINT BUNNIES ONLY LIKES FELICIANO BECAUSE HE'S 'CUTE'?"

"Ignore him," groaned Kuro Kiku. "He's been writing a dissertation on the evil designs of a fangirl's mind."

"They will believe me, someday!" exclaimed McCarthy Alfred, crossing his arms. "Fangirls are one hundred percent evil and they're out to get you! Someday, they will take over the world and what then? Big Sister will be watching you!"

"Not the Orwellian argument!" Kuro Kiku declared drily, throwing his hands in the air. "Your pathetic idea of a dystopia frankly disgusts me. Communists obviously have no class."

"On that last point I agree with you – the Red Menace has penetrated America, and it must be pulled out before it corrupts and destroys all that we love about America!"

At that, the students sniggered, especially the RusAme shippers. "Orientalism at its finest," snorted Tori Troutman.

But McCarthy Alfred wasn't finished. "However, my argument of a fangirl-ruled dystopia has its grounds. First off, if they do lay claim to the title Big Sister and install telescreens into each and every house, what would they look for?"

"There's not a lot of privacy there," Kriss pointed out. "Which means…"

"Exactly! Fangirls will use telescreens to prey on innocent young men, trying to get them to cater to their basest desires!"

"Now you've just put the idea in their minds!" Kuro Kiku snapped. "Sir, you are as incompetent as ever."

"And insane, too," Jennifer whispered to Kriss. "How did we get from accusing Mitsuki of harbouring plots against IAHF to 'fangirls will rule the world and abuse their surveillance powers to watch yaoi porn'?"

Kriss shrugged.

* * *

**Notes:** Signups! Only first semester students can sign up, and they can only apply for those four groups. I pre-emptively chose groups for Karen and Lucy since… well, knowing fangirls… anyways, thank you for making my life a bit easier.


	57. Neoliberaltalia

**Note:** To clarify, only those students **who make a first cameo in the first twenty-five chapters of this story** can sign up for Project Roswell.

* * *

**Part VII**

The first semester students crowded into the International Relations classroom excitedly, some of them wondering what IR really was about. Would Francis talk primarily about the various Hetalia pairings, or would he apply it to their world's politics?

Their questions were quickly answered when Francis strode in and wrote 'History of International Relations' on the board. He coughed slightly. "Everyone, take out your copies of _Essentials of International Relations_," he instructed. "Before we begin talking and debating about foreign relations and how they pertain to Hetalia, we need to get the boring stuff covered first." He paused. "Le _rosbif_ told me to."

"And he'd be right," sniffed Carolina Brown.

Francis cleared his throat. "Ahem! International Relations can often be traced back to the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, when the modern state system was first established. Political authority before 1648 was based mostly on the Church and its actions. Westphalia introduced sovereignty."

"What's that?" Akiko Arihima demanded.

"Attends, attends, mademoiselle." Francis wrote the word on the board. "Sovereignty means that the legitimate sovereigns are the ultimate authority within a given territory's borders. There are no internal equals; there are no external superiors. That effectively ended the power of the Roman Catholic Church, because Popes had relied on their so-called superiority over kings for power. Now all they could influence were spiritual matters."

"Wait, so the king basically could say, 'I'm not allowed to tell you what to do, and you are not allowed to tell me what to do', right?" Karin Guarez asked.

"Exactement. This is the time when we Nations started getting more and more powerful. Sovereignty forces a nation's citizens to look up to one body of authority. Previously people served various nobles or the Church. Now they would serve their _country_. With sovereignty, the idea of an independent nation-state became popular. Nations began institutionalising their Diplomatic Corps and their militaries. We call this nation-state system 'modern'; states that have not incorporated its use are called 'pre-modern'; states that have transcended the nation-state system are called 'post-modern'."

"Is that what postmodernism means?" Tori Troutman asked.

"Postmodernism is more critical towards sharp classifications, and insists on using proper language. It is a reaction to the 'modernist' idea of objectivity and progress."

"How does he know all of this?" hissed Hotaru to Karin, who shrugged. "I thought he was only into wine and sex!"

"For example, a postmodernist, feminist argument would be that 'your usage of the term 'mankind' excludes women, contributing to their increased invisibility in a patriarchal society'." Francis nodded. "But back to the main point. The widely used, post-World War Two system – the international system – is a combination of modern and post-modern systems. It can be analysed on multiple levels: the individual level, the domestic nation-state level, the transnational and intergovernmental level, and the global level. Nations from Hetalia, as you can tell, correspond most heavily to the middle two tiers."

"Not much of a surprise," Franklin muttered.

"Here in this classroom, we dedicate part of the curriculum to International Relations, or the academic study of relationships between countries and various organisations that are not confined to one government or nation. There will be academic discussion and debate about the ideas presented. You are expected to participate; considering that we are not going to have finals on this, participation is probably key to your success in this class."

The students looked at each other with matching 'who are you and what did you do with Francis Bonnefois?' looks.

"However!" Francis grinned lewdly. "We will also cover international relations. There are differences between the two. Failure to recognise that will result in pain."

And that was all too familiar a threat. Jennifer looked at Merka's notes. She'd copy them later.

Francis clapped his hands. "Alors! Any questions before we start talking about neoliberalism?" he asked.

"What's neoliberalism?" Sakura Crystal Kirkland demanded. "Anyways, will Iggy ever be a guest speaker?"

"I'm afraid so, since the study of International Relations had started out as a purely British-centred subject," Francis replied melodramatically. "Any other questions?"

"Will you talk about USUK and FrUK and all the other pairings?" Mitsuki Horenake asked. After McCarthy's outburst at her on Wednesday afternoon, she had avoided Feliciano like the plague. The Italian's singing of "Friday" at every given opportunity may have contributed to that. Poor Mitsuki had even changed her signup from Hearts to Diamonds just to throw McCarthy Alfred off her back.

"That would be in the international relations section, yes," Francis confirmed, "anyone else? No one else has a question? Parfait. We will now begin by talking about neoliberalism. Open your textbooks to chapter three."

The students did so, many of them looking resigned. Francis cleared his throat and started lecturing.

"Neoliberalism is the belief that nations are key actors in international relations, with non-state actors and intergovernmental organisations acting as support. That means that multinational organisations matter when it comes to decisions and policy, but they cannot block a nation's right to sovereignty." He looked up. "That means nations can make their own decisions regarding policy. Can you see how neoliberalism applies to Hetalia?"

"In our terms, it's the belief that the Nations are not strictly bound to any organisation or government; they're free to be people as well as personifications," Carolina summarised.

"Exactly. Neoliberals argue that nations cooperate for absolute gain, which is the belief that a nation will act according to the _total_ effect of any given decision on the state. Later on we will properly define absolute gain and highlight the differences between it and relative gain."

"What is relative gain, anyways?" Lydiacatfish asked.

"Relative gain is the belief that a nation will act according to the balance of power resulting from any given decision. That means that according to neoliberal ideas, nations will work together for the _total_ outcome, regardless of any power balances."

"So neoliberalism wasn't very popular back in Congress of Vienna times," Loki Shadow Reave snickered.

"I wouldn't think so," Francis replied smoothly. "Can someone take what I just said and apply it to Hetalia?"

Jodie Smith raised her hand. "Neoliberals believe that nations act for the total outcome. That means that… the Allies act together to fight the Axis for the total outcome of liberating Europe from Hitler and Asia from the Japanese. Um… since there were five Allies and three Axis members, they grouped together without looking at the power balance."

"Good point. Although there were other Nations involved in the Axis, like Roderich, and nations that were historically occupied by the Nazis…" a shadow flickered over Francis's face. "Any other examples?"

"Um, in the War of the Austrian Succession strips, it seemed as if the Bad Touch Trio was going up against simply Austria and England," Laurel Martin pointed out. "Although Hungary joined later, England had become neutral at that point."

"You're forgetting World War One," Shelby pointed out. "There were so many Allies, but so few Central Powers. It was Germany, Austria-Hungary, Ottoman Empire, and Bulgaria versus Great Britain, Russia, France, Italy, Japan, the United States, and twenty-five other Nations."

"Granted, we don't see much of World War One in Hetalia," Francis pointed out.

* * *

"Where'd… hey, that looks like my shirt!" hissed Heathcliffe Sarutobi when he and Aki bumped into Allison Frazier outside the Platonic Love classroom. "I was looking for mine everywhere!"

"I snuck in with Ashton West and nabbed it, since you didn't seem to need it at the time," Allison replied noncommittally. "And I didn't want to wear the stupid crosses anymore; Lucas was giving me hell for not 'wearing it with dignity', as he called it."

"Naw, he was probably giving you heaven for it," Cain Harren joked as he passed by.

"He's right next to you," Allison pointed out.

"No, I'm Michael," the Lucas-lookalike snapped.

"Oh, for the love of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" snapped Allison.

"Don't take His name in vain!"

"You see? Chip off the old block." Allison nodded.

"That still doesn't explain –" Heathcliffe began to say.

"I hate being compared to my brother –" Michael added.

Aki groaned. "Heathcliffe, you started talking first."

"But I'm an Archangel!" snapped Michael. "Don't I deserve some respect?"

"Hard to say what respect is, in a school like this," Heathcliffe replied sagely. "Anyway, it still doesn't explain why you stole my clothing, Allison."

"You don't know? I'm a crossdresser, for Glod's sake!"

"I said, don't take –"

"She said 'Glod', Mike," Cain pointed out.

"Oh, is that why the censors didn't suddenly incite someone to create a loud noise to block it out?" the real Lucas had arrived on the scene. "Fascinating."

"Maybe the censors just really hate you, ever thought about that?" Allison suggested innocently.

Lucas paused. "No, I hadn't. Thank you for your suggestion," he replied sarcastically. "Pardon me, I'm meeting Karen –"

"Karen who? The one who speaks like nine different languages and lusts after Alfred?"

"No, the one who covets Ludwig," Lucas replied stiffly.

"Are you two having some hot mortal-Angel romance that we're not hearing about?" Ah, Kitty seemed to have a sixth sense for gossip, having appeared right when the group was about to enter the cafeteria. "Simply do tell."

"It is one hundred percent platonic, which means that it is pure," growled Lucas. "Pure as love should be."

"So you admit you like her, eh?" Kitty grinned wickedly.

"I never said anything of that sort."

"You said 'love'!"

"Honestly, you poor sinners have such a narrow definition of 'love'," Lucas sniffed, looking disdainfully at Aki and Heathcliffe.

"What's that look supposed to be, eh, _poser_?" Heathcliffe hissed.

"You may want to invest in soundproofing, my dear friend," Lucas replied condescendingly. "I can hear the two of you from two storeys below."

"Are you sure that's us and not the Threesome?" Aki asked, turning pink nonetheless.

"Who else yells 'Heathcliffe, my darling' when in the throes of sinful pleasure?"

Aki's pink blush deepened to a blinding shade of coral. Who knew that Angels could be so damned snarky?

* * *

Speaking of the Threesome, they were seated at their usual spot at the South American table. Taylor had his arm around Franklin and kept on trying to instigate a lunchtime makeout session. Charlie and Megan seemed to be plotting something.

This was a perfect opportunity for Nicole Heather North to sneak up and try to take pictures of Taylor. She had already compiled a vast folder of photos of quiet William Ofritas; she was hoping to add pictures of Charlie to that collection. Charlie was damn hot, even if he was hopelessly chasing after Mr. Hugh.

"Someone's taking pictures of you, Tay," Megan said, giggling and nudging Taylor. He looked up in surprise to see a short little elf – like the kind that worked for Santa, but with amazing Technicolor hair and eyes – holding a camera and grinning stupidly at him.

"Hey," Taylor drawled, smirking. "Need a good pose?"

Nicole squealed, her cheeks turning pink to clash with her hair.

"Taylor, what are you doing?" Franklin demanded, flushing bright red as the elf took some rapid-fire photos.

"Showing the camera how much I love you, silly," Taylor replied slyly, pressing a kiss to the other boy's cheek.

"You sound like a porn star," Megan snickered, putting bunny ears on Taylor for a couple of pictures.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "He could moonlight as one," he suggested.

"Oh my god, don't even remind me. I had this nightmare that my brother moonlighted as an Indian stripper." Megan nodded. "It was a hot nightmare, though." Charlie snorted into his poutine. Nicole turned her camera on him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were a secret porn star, Charlie," Taylor continued as Charlie flashed smile after smile for the camera. "You could even be the Cuisiner of that one French song."

"Ooh, 'Je Veux Te Voir'!" squealed Megan. "Francis played it in class once. It's so perverted!"

"But I can't be Cuisiner, because I don't have a small dick!" Charlie complained, good-naturedly cuffing Megan. "And I wax my chest, so I don't have chest hair! Get it right!"

"That was something I really didn't need to know," Megan muttered, as Nicole continued to take pictures of Charlie provocatively eating poutine.

"Why wouldn't you want to know?" Taylor snickered. "Not going to sleep with him?"

Megan snorted. "Been there, did that."

"Not up for another round, then?" Charlie retorted lasciviously. There was something about the way he licked that fork that made his peers wonder why Mr. Hugh didn't just give it up and jump his bones already. He was practically giving the fork a blowjob.

"Oh, shut up, you. You know I'm always ready for some fun with redheads," Megan snickered. "We should get Krissy-kins to join in!"

"Unlike other people I know, Kriss prefers to stay _faithful_," Taylor pointed out, causing Megan to shove him good-naturedly.

"Like I've always said, you only live once." Megan slung her arms around the other two, poking Franklin as she did so. "And what's the use of living if you don't get to have fun?"

* * *

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Kiryll Nightroad. Bonjour, je m'appelle Kiryll Nightroad. Bonjour, je m'appelle –"

"Oh, shut up," Mitsuki Horenake grumbled, throwing her pencil at her stepbrother as they walked towards their next class. "What do you have again?"

"Mythology, with Norway," Kiryll replied, holding his Mythology textbook to his chest to prevent people from seeing the diamond on his chest. He claimed to be an Angel, but sometimes he would turn into a giant heron for no apparent reason. He also guarded the diamond on his chest with a desperate possessiveness, especially from the Demons at the school. "What about you?"

"Original Characters Workshop with China," Mitsuki replied cheerily as she stopped at her classroom. "Just keep on going down the corridor until you reach the stairs. Climb those to get to Norway's classroom."

"Thanks, Mitsuki," he said, rushing off as the Feliciano fangirl entered the classroom.


	58. Fertile Tracts of Land

**Notes:** Last-minute call for Project Roswell signups before I start sorting people into their teams (I'm looking directly at Em and Eva, since they haven't given me any specific teams)! If you don't know what team to go to, take a look at the ArteStella playing cards.** Spades** consists of Alfred, Arthur, Yao, Hong Kong, Grandpa Rome, HRE, Chibitalia, Germania, Netherlands, and Thailand. **Clubs** consists of Ivan, Elisabeta, Roderich, the Baltics, Poland, and the Nordics. **Hearts** consists of the Axis and all of the girls except Liechtenstein and Elisabeta. **Diamonds** consists of Francis, Liechtenstein, Vash, Matthew, Cuba, Antonio, Lovino, Sadiq, Heracles, and Egypt.

* * *

**Part VIII**

"We begin this class, aru, with the importance of researching Original Characters," Yao Wang was lecturing as Jennifer strode into the room late, not even hiding the hickey on her neck. "Detention, Chang xiao-jie, for being late and indiscreet about your private life. See me after class, aru." It was amazing how Yao had said that without even batting an eyelash. Jennifer took her seat, glowering.

"You'd think he'd be nicer to me since my family's purebred Chinese," she muttered.

"Another detention, aru, for talking out of turn."

Merka snickered.

Yao continued to lecture as if he had not been interrupted. "Historical events, as you may notice, sometimes involve Nations who have not been mentioned in the Hetalia canon, aru. Other times those Nations may have a design and a basic personality, but no name. Our fandom is an ideal spot for Original Character development, due to the vast amounts of unincorporated nations and micronations still out there, aru." He paused. "In the Spanish-speaking fandom, or so I hear, aru, creating Latin and South American Original Characters is a popular thing, aru."

_Yeah, there are lots of Argentinas and Chiles_, Luna Correa agreed. _And I've seen someone make a Falkland Islands character once_.

"Don't forget the States!" Karin piped up. "Lots of people personify Alfred's states. Since Kiku's provinces are separate personifications in canon, why can't Alfred's states exist as separate personifications, too?"

"That's a good point, aru," Yao agreed. "Cities have been personified, too. Moscow, Beijing, Los Angeles…"

"I remember seeing a really good role-play account of the Romani," Sara Parker said thoughtfully.

"Gypsies?" echoed William Ofritas.

"Call them what you will," Sara sniffed.

Yao coughed loudly. "Right. And not only are there so many nations and micronations out there who aren't designed yet, but there are also those newly-designed Nations who only have a basic personality and a minimal role in the strips or anime. Most of them don't have names. Some of them, like New Zealand, don't even have a definite gender, aru!"

"Pixiv Scotland's hot!" Megan called out randomly.

"He looks like a ginger Mr. Hugh," Jennifer pointed out.

"Considering the Frasers are Scottish, I wouldn't be surprised," Kriss snickered.

"That's where Mr. Hugh gets his hotness from, then!" Charlie cackled.

"Scotland doesn't have a definite design, aru," Yao pointed out. "Aside from England, none of the other members of the British Isles do."

"Hey, have you seen Adult Sealand?" Sara grinned. "There's someone who's really into role-playing as Adult Sealand. She even created a language for him."

"Adult Sealand is one of them, yes," Yao agreed. "What about Belgium? Norway? Tai – er, Hong Kong? People try to flesh out those characters as well; it's really quite nice when they do that, aru."

"He didn't finish saying 'Taiwan'," Andrew Ho whispered to Megan, who raised both eyebrows.

"I guess they've been arguing again," Anastasia Debby whispered from behind them. "The whole independence thing, you know? I think Tibet's been arguing with Yao as well."

"Poor Yao," Grace sighed. "He just wants everyone to stay with him. He's getting old."

"Kinda facing Ivan's dilemma, isn't he?" Megan asked, grinning.

"Except Ivan visits him."

Yao coughed again. "Right, it's quite nice when people get their Original Characters right, aru. And when I say right, I mean 'well-researched and well-balanced'." He started fiddling with his (Chinese-made) laptop decorated with (also Chinese-made) Hello Kitty stickers. "On the other hand, bad Original Characters are appearing in Hetalia at an alarming rate, aru. The general term for bad OCs is 'Mary Sue' or 'Gary Stu', but sometimes it's not a case of that. Sometimes – but rarely, aru! – a well-balanced Original Character can be tarnished by a lack of research. This is why our fandom is a good place to make an Original Character: there are so many possibilities, but the guidelines put down by history and politics makeit challenging yet enjoyable, aru."

He continued to fiddle with the computer and the projector; by the time he pulled up the presentation, the students had learned several new insults in Chinese. Yao had called his laptop a turtle (a fitting insult, considering that his laptop often froze due to the amount of pirated and knock-off material he had on there) and cursed the projector's seventh grandfather (the seventh grandfather of that projector was likely stewing at some dump heap already).

"I will now put up brief descriptions of various Original Characters, aru, whether good or bad. You will tell me if the creator did their research and if the OC is a Mary Sue. A double affirmative in this case is rare, aru."

The first slide showed a black-haired girl with blue eyes, standing next to a brunette with matching blue eyes. Yao called on Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy to read the caption.

"Tiffy Jones and her daughter Zoelle Bonnefoy-Jones," Hotaru began to read, squinting slightly. "Wait a minute, who's who?"

"I believe Tiffy is the one with the black hair, aru," drawled Yao. "Continue."

"Wait, they look to be the same age! How old was Tiffy when she had Zoelle? One?" demanded Megan.

"Read on to figure out why, aru," Yao insisted, nodding to Hotaru.

"Tiffy represents New York and Zoelle represents Liverpool, New York. Tiffy can be a bit dark at times, but she's really nice. She can also kick your ass. She can control fire, and she has a unicorn. Her boobs are bigger than Ukraine's, and her ass is nicer than Spain's. Her parents are England and America, but she doesn't like England since he tried to kill Zoelle when she was preggers with her. Tiffy had Zoelle with Francis –" Hotaru paused. "Wait, _what_?"

"Paedophilia much?" demanded Tori Troutman.

"It gets better, aru," Yao cackled. Hotaru stared at him incredulously.

"Zoelle is special. She changes form when she's very emotional. Her eyes will change a certain colour. Big freaking wings sprout from her back; their colour varies. She can control elements and talk to spirits. She also has a pet dragon named Fang. She sometimes also turns into a wolf." Hotaru paused and goggled at the slide. "Wait, wait, what's_ that_?"

"Her harem, aru," Yao sniggered. "Strange, aru, how England tries to kill her and then ends up joining her harem."

"Paedophilia. Believe it," deadpanned Yuki-rin.

Yao nodded. "I do believe there are some side notes that Arthur slipped in, aru… hm. Oh, yes. Tiffy's writer also happens to be named Tiffy. Her pregnancy somehow lasted a week instead of the usual nine months –"

"Can't Nations usually speed up the process?" Megan asked aloud.

Yao grinned. "Actually, if you were to compare the gestational period for a human to the time it takes to build a new Nation… I'd have to say that if one of us gets pregnant, aru, we'd be carrying that thing for nine _years_, aru."

"Shit, that's too long!" Megan whined.

"But it takes years for new governments to form and establish themselves on the international stage, aru. It takes years for resolutions acknowledging or facilitating the creation of such Nations to pass. You've heard people in your country complaining about how slow the government is with making decisions, aru. There are always people opposed to any given resolution, aru, and those people are the ones who make politics slow and repetitive, aru."

The students sat back and looked at each other worriedly.

"Back to Tiffy, aru!" Yao clapped his hands. "Can anyone tell me what is… for lack of a better term… _wrong_ about her?

"Damn, where to begin?" whistled Karin. "The handling fire thing. Nations can't do that. That means states can't either."

"She doesn't sound like a New Yorker," sniffed Kriss. "You know, unless the average New Yorker can shoot fire from his or her fingertips and stuff."

"BROOKLYN RAGE!" screamed Merka randomly. She paused. "There are so many more problems with her kid, though. Like the whole thing about owning a dragon. There aren't any dragons in Hetalia. Nations can't sprout wings, unless it's England in Britannia Angel mode. Nations can't control the elements and definitely can't turn into another species at will."

"Her tits are bigger than Ukraine's and her ass is nicer than Spain's, but she doesn't seem to have back problems and she doesn't look like the type who exercises often," Megan pointed out.

"She's a blatant self-insert who bends biology to suit her needs," Carolina declared vindictively.

"Sounds about right, aru," Yao agreed, sending a rather pointed look at the Special People group. Sabrina cringed and looked away. "Next character."

A blonde girl appeared on the screen, wearing a blindingly pink dress. She had blue eyes.

"Livingston xian-sheng, please read the profile, aru."

Franklin cleared his throat and began to read.

"Isabella Fernandez Carriedo represents Magic-land. She controls fire –"

"What is it with Mary Sues and fire? Are they all pyromaniacs now?" demanded Shelby.

Franklin sniggered and continued. "She is part-ninja and part-mermaid, and her father is Spain."

"How can you be part-ninja?" snapped Akiko Arihima from the left wall. "It's an occupation!"

"Says the girl who put ninja down on her registration form as a _species_," Loki snickered.

"Shut up!" Akiko looked over at Franklin. "Carry on, Frank," she added airily.

"She is four feet one and weighs one hundred and twenty pounds –" Franklin was cut off by Megan this time.

"Isn't that like terminally obese?" the alien demanded.

"AND SHE CONTROLS HALF OF SPAIN'S MILITARY," Franklin continued loudly, trying to drown out Megan's rant on body mass index. When he was done, Yao cheerily assigned Megan detention.

"All right, aru, what's wrong with her?" the Chinese asked.

"She's the personification of a nonexistent nation," several people said immediately.

"I don't think Spain ever banged a mermaid," Megan added. "Besides, she doesn't even look Spanish. Or Japanese, since ninjas are Japanese."

"She controls fire, despite being part-mermaid. And last time I checked, mermaids lived in water," Lucia pointed out.

Ema Skye rolled her eyes. "And what about the whole 'controlling Spain's military' thing?"

"_Fang pi_," snapped Jennifer, in a rare moment of her using Chinese. Grace gasped, but Yao hand waved it. Bullshit was bullshit, after all.

"There are a lot of things wrong with her, I'll give it that, aru," Yao agreed. "Shall we move onto a worse example or a better example?"

"Define 'better', please," Karin pleaded.

"A more researched and developed OC, aru." Yao changed the slide. "Sonali Malhotra, personification of India." He paused. "Please read the profile by yourself, since it's quite long, aru."

The students began to read.

"Fertile tracts of land," snorted Tori. "At least she applies it to history." Pause. "I'm still laughing about the herping and derping Europeans trying to go after her spices."

"Indian spices are the bomb," Megan declared. "CURRY, FUCK YES."

"Speaking Brit English with an Indian accent, fuck yes," added Kriss, snickering.

"SHE KNOWS PARSELTONGUE?" squealed Laurel Martin. "IS THAT BECAUSE OF THE SNAKE CHARMERS?"

"Kama sutra," Charlie sniggered. "Hey, Megan, there's a copy of that in the library, yeah?"

"Sanskrit _and_ English, baby," Megan cackled.

"She likes America!" Merka squealed suddenly. "But she dislikes England. Understandable."

"She likes Ireland," Kriss pointed out, grinning. "Hurr…"

"Her hobbies are understandable," Karin agreed. "Bickering with Pakistan, watching Bollywood movies –"

"BOLLYWOOD, FUCK YEAH!" Megan shouted, fistpumping. That earned her another detention. "IS IT BECAUSE I'M BROWN? _IS IT_?"

"You don't look very…" Jennifer snickered as Megan stuck her tongue out at her.

"Computer savvy, yes." Franklin smirked. "Don't you love it when you try to call a help centre and you get a guy who speaks in a heavy Indian accent?"

"Don't diss us, bro!" Megan shouted.

Yao coughed. "Have we all finished reading?" There were several nods. "Good, good, aru. What are your overall impressions of her?"

"That the creator did her homework," Karin said immediately.

"How so, aru?"

"Sonali's personality quirks are attributed to some part of Indian history or culture. Like her fear – it's something easily understandable. India hasn't even been independent for a century; it's understandable that Sonali doesn't want to be subordinate to another country again."

"And her relations with the other Nations all have historical backgrounds," agreed Tori. "Although that thing about Russia is a bit questionable. Still, the majority of the relationships have explanations."

"She's Hindu, but she recognises the prevalence of Islam and Buddhism in her country, too," Anastasia pointed out.

"Good, good, aru." Yao changed the slide once more. "Eily O'Hara is also one of the many Ireland personifications. Once again, her profile's a bit long."

Eily appeared to be a red-haired, green-eyed lass with two ahoges and a load of freckles. "She explains the ahoges!" squealed Tori. "I don't see a lot of people who explain their characters' ahoges."

"She explains her giant tracts of land!" Megan cheered. "And she's realistic about them, too."

"She acknowledges the national debt," Franklin pointed out. "She also plays by the stereotypes and history behind Ireland."

After reading about those two, the class found themselves dreading their return to the Mary Sue profiles.

* * *

The final lists for Project Roswell were released the next day (the day that everyone must get down on, according to Rebecca Black) after Comparative Governments class with Arthur and Nataliya. The students were still snickering about Nataliya threatening to render Arthur sterile in the middle of a discussion about the pros and cons of authoritarianism.

"I can't believe she threatened to castrate him," cackled Loki as they joined up with the other students (for example, Blaise was coming from Geography and KyAnna from What's In A Name).

"I can believe it," Mighty Major J replied sullenly, making a half-hearted pass at Megan as the Alien skipped by. She kicked the Z fighter in the crotch.

"He's on your blacklist, eh?" Taylor Drews-Garcia asked Megan as they approached the bulletin boards for the final lists. "Someone just got a one hundred percent chance of not getting laid at this school."

"You know it," Megan replied. "I draw the line at douchebags like him."

Charlie frowned. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if he resorted to less-than-consensual means to get into someone's pants," he said thoughtfully. "He certainly looks testosterone-charged enough."

"And certainly acts like he owns all the ovaries in this place," added Franklin disdainfully.

"Don't tell Kitty about this," Megan whispered. "She'll start a betting pool over the first person to get molested, and all the bets will be on me."

Charlie snickered. "I wonder how he even got into this school, since he certainly looks and acts dumber than a rock."

"How did he even come up with enough brain cells to write a fanfic?" sniffed Megan. They looked over at Mighty Major J.

"Obviously he forced someone to," Franklin replied, casually leaning against Taylor.

"Oh, lovely," Taylor sighed, as the Z fighter (strangely, of all the things for Sealand to get right, it just _had_ to be Mighty Major J's species. He looked like a weightlifter on steroids, not an idiot who fought with letters of the alphabet) glared at them. "Another homophobe."

Speaking of homophobia…

Faye Markus sat on the other side of the room, glaring daggers at Sara Parker. Not only was the Canada fangirl into yaoi pairings, she was also a Marxist. And not only was she a Marxist, she was also friends with That Freak Andy.

Well, Andrew Kirk was known to most of IAHF as just Andy, but Faye tacked a That Freak to the beginning because she could.

Naturally the freaks would get along like a house on fire because of their shared freakishness. Faye held the belief that most people at the school were evil, because they tolerated (and in many cases, advocated) homosexuality. Despite that, she hated not fitting in. Everyone else liked watching Hetalia for the gayness, it seemed.

"You're sitting alone," someone pointed out. Oh, it was that poncy Angel, Lucas. He wasn't too bad; he was one of the few sane people around according to Faye. "Why don't you join us? We're at Denmark, over there."

"Sure," she said, shrugging as she picked up her tray and joined the Angels. As she passed, she sent a withering glare at the burly-looking fighter guy in the corner. He was such a creeper, staring at her with that look in his eyes. It was almost as if he was undressing her in his mind! Gross!

"Oh lovely, here's the American Fundie," Allison Frazier called from her table as Faye took her seat next to Michael Arch.

"What did you just call me?" Faye screamed at her roommate.

Allison rolled her eyes. "I called you a reactionary, Bible-thumping dumbass who hates anything that has to do with magic, homosexuality, and socialism. You know, like the Westboro Baptist Church guys."

"I'm not as bad as the WBC!" Faye screeched.

"Put away the 'God Hates Fags' sign and we'll talk," Allison replied cheerily, turning back to her lunch. "And I honestly don't see what's so awful about Pastafarianism."

"I never said anything that bad about that; I was concerned about your Wiccan practices!"

"She's a witch! Burn her!" Cain Harren joked. Karen DuLay laughed and patted his halo as she walked by.

* * *

After the final lists were posted, Project Roswell took the back burner in many of the Staff's minds. More Nations were concerned with the civil war in Libya, after all. You knew a situation was severe when even _Seychelles _condemned it.

"We've evacuated all the people we can," Roderich said at the lunch meeting, causing Gilbert to snicker.

"Sixty-two people. That's a _lot_, Roderich," the Prussian cackled.

"Luddy, why didn't you vote to help?" Feliciano asked Ludwig from across the table. "Why aren't you even helping? Fratello and I have been helping so many refugees."

"I sent in some planes," Ludwig replied. "Feliciano, I am just as concerned about Libya as you are. I just don't want to make my own people die for them."

"Even Heracles helped," Kiku noted, smiling at the Greek from across the table. "I apologise for not being able to do anything other than condemn Gaddafi."

"We know you have your own issues, Kiku," Denmark said consolingly. He had offered to send in planes as well. The Netherlands had sent in evacuation aircraft already; even Feliks had sent in aircraft to pick up his citizens. Strangely, only fifteen Poles decided to leave the country.

Now it seemed as if the entire world (or at least, most of the world) was working together. Russia, China, and Germany did not necessarily agree with the idea of a no-fly zone, but they did nothing to stop it, either. Nations were evacuating their citizens and harbouring refugees. Even more Nations added their voices to the calls for Gaddafi to stand down.

"It's hard to say how effective this is going to be," Arthur sighed, putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder as they watched the screens. The airstrikes were effective, but what were they destroying? Were they harming civilians, despite their pledge to protect the ordinary people?

"I hope he steps down," Alfred agreed. His hands were clenched into fists. "I hope…"

All of the Nations had experienced turmoil within themselves as well, due to protests taking place in their own countries. All they could do was wait and hope.

* * *

**Notes:** The Mary Sues, Eily, and Sonali all exist. I asked Eily and Sonali's roleplayers to use their profiles. I didn't for the Sues. So, a quick apology in advance to their creators.

"Fang pi" translates literally to fart, and figuratively to bullshit.


	59. It's Still Rape If You Yell Surprise

**Notes:** REALLY BIG TRIGGER FOR RAPE HERE. Seriously, if you get triggered, don't read.

* * *

**Part IX**

It was strange, how quickly time could pass. Jennifer almost couldn't believe it. Hadn't it been yesterday when she first arrived at the school, lusting after England and not knowing the difference between World War One and World War Two? And now here she was, at the other end of the year.

Sometimes detentions were a good place for inner soul-searching.

But nevertheless, Jennifer thought she had gone pretty far. She could easily look back at her own stories now and say, "Holy Roman Empire, that's shit," to its face. Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones – who was she; a Mary Sue designed for vicarious living? That was probably the case. And don't even mention the sundae fic. Jennifer knew well enough by now that whipped cream was a bad idea. She had even tested out the theory once.

Workbitch had laughed for a week over her uncomfortable stance. He didn't laugh about the yeast infection.

And Workbitch! Who would have known? Jennifer wasn't quite sure what her feelings were (it was still hard to tell the difference between love and lust. Blame the amygdala) for him. All she knew was that she had never been happier or safer around him. She could confide to him (not that she ever _did_, yet), and the kissing was nice, too.

Okay, so they went past kissing. _Still_.

Jennifer looked at the clock. Half past midnight and her arms were cramping. She had been polishing the Nations' old weapons – of course all of the great powers would carry swords of all types, plus a couple of knives (Feliciano had some lovely stiletto knives from the Renaissance) and daggers. Then there were the battleaxes for Spain and Denmark (Spain's looked like it was still in use), and French Revolution Francis had his guillotine in a dark, cobwebby corner. Even the Asian Nations had their own weapon arsenals. Kiku seemed to have the most, what with all the shuriken and nunchucks and stuff.

Not only were there swords, but there were also shields and suits of armour. Arthur had his suit of armour from his (probably Round Table) knight days – in fact, all of the Europeans had some sort of armour lying around. It was tedious, trying to clean and polish every bit of those blasted metal plates. Jennifer made a mental note to sock the next knight in shining armour that she met.

She still hadn't finished polishing Alfred's bayonet collection and Mr. Hugh's ceremonial sword when Yao entered and told her to go to bed.

"You will continue this tomorrow, aru," the Chinese man said imperiously.

"Y-yeah," Jennifer stammered, getting up and suppressing the urge to bow like a maid. "Er, 晚安."

"你会讲中文?" Yao asked, looking surprised. Obviously he thought her Chinese vocabulary only comprised of curse words and insults. Most peoples' were.

"Errrrrrrr…." Jennifer looked shiftily from side to side. "I forgot most of it," she admitted as she left the room.

"Pity, aru. My language is in high demand right now, aru. For you to forget it is truly a waste," Yao said as he closed the door behind her.

Jennifer hated the Asian Guilt Trip. She was still tripping over it as she traipsed through the darkened halls of the school. Maybe one of these days she'll relearn the language. She still had a bit of a leg up over other newbies, after all. She could still pronounce everything in the needed accent.

While she was mulling over that idea, a Z fighter leered at her from the shadows. Granted, he was usually into blondes. But he wouldn't mind an Asian ass once in a while – and there was definitely something going on for that Chang chick if she had kept that stuffy secretary for almost six months.

Jennifer, on the other hand, didn't know she was being stalked until she neared the girls' dorm. Right at that moment, something burly collided with her and pulled her into the shadows. There was something panting against her ear, hot and disgusting. Naturally, she kicked and fought at her assailant, but it was like kicking a brick wall. It hurt like that, too, considering that he was wearing something to protect the family jewels.

"Don't scream, and I won't wring your pretty neck," someone sneered.

Everything after that was blurred.

* * *

"Jennifoos! What happened?" Megan demanded the next morning. "You didn't return last night!"

Jennifer looked up blearily from her porridge. "What?" she echoed.

"What happened?" echoed Megan. "I worried myself sick over you!"

"I am strangely touched," Jennifer muttered.

The alien took a seat next to her. "Jennifoos, please explain. You left for detention and never came back, and now you look like you slept outside. What's going on? Problems between you and Work?"

"It's nothing," Jennifer sighed, shaking her head.

"That's a lie," Megan snapped. "It can't be just 'nothing'."

"I spent the night in Kriss and Merka's room, okay? No need to get all up in my face."

Kriss and Merka, however, were looking at her pityingly. Megan's eyes narrowed.

"What happened?" she repeated. "Don't make me tickle you!"

Jennifer snorted, forcing a ridiculously fake smile on her face. "Nothing happened!" she insisted, inching away from Megan's incoming hands.

"Are you sure?" Megan wheedled.

"Stop!" Jennifer started panicking. What if it happened again? The rational part of her brain said nothing was going to happen to her in broad daylight in the middle of the cafeteria.

But then again, she had thought she had been safe before.

"Hey, crazy buff dumbass isn't here," a third voice cut in. It was Taylor, hand-in-hand with Franklin. "Heard he wasn't in his room this morning. His roommate – poor Nick Jenkins! – said he didn't return last night either."

"He had detention?"

"Something about calling Arthur a sissy." Pause. "_Pirate_ Arthur."

"Ouch, I suppose Pirate Arthur sent him to Davy Jones's locker?"

"Threatened him with it, and then made him scrub the deck with his shirt."

Jennifer was listening in to the conversation. So that's what _he_ had been doing. No wonder.

Megan frowned. "Well, Jennifoos here didn't return last night, either…" Realisation dawned on her face. "Oh no, Jen, what were you doing with him?"

"What do you mean 'what was_ I_ doing with _him_'?" Jennifer demanded, standing up abruptly. "You should ask it the other way around!" And with that, she stormed out of the cafeteria.

Megan blinked. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Taylor looked thoughtful. "You lost your own bet, Meggster," he said after a moment.

"What? I'm sorry, I'm derping today." Megan frowned.

"What bet?" chipped in Kitty as she passed by. "Is it the one on who Mighty Major J is going to molest first?"

"Shit, how'd you find out?" Megan demanded.

"_You_ were?" Kitty asked, looking taken aback.

Franklin coughed. "You guys. Calm down. Let's get everything sorted out here."

Merka nodded. "Yeah, can we start from the beginning? Everyone, take a seat. Let's work this out. J is not here, and Jennifer is acting moody and twitchy. Neither of them returned to their own rooms last night. Jennifer came to our room at one in the morning, looking shell-shocked. We tried to ask her what happened, but she kept on shaking her head and saying nothing happened. Despite that, she insisted on spending the night here. She locked the windows and flitted around the room like a paranoid bird, and then insisted on hogging Kriss's bed."

"Not that I protested," Kriss pointed out, "since she seemed shaken up about something."

Kitty nodded. "Yeah, I heard from someone a week ago that you three," here she pointed to Megan, Charlie, and Taylor, "were talking about J's… disrespect for anyone who isn't himself… his aggression… and his… well…" she trailed off and looked at Megan again. "He's on your blacklist, isn't he?"

Megan nodded. "Yes… um, him, the little kids here, Faye the Fundie, and… yeah. There are others, but their names escape me right now."

"Right, so I thought that I might as well start the pool. As you predicted, you got the most bets. Franklin was also betted on rather highly. No one bet for Faye, since they all thought she was screwing him anyways."

"No one likes Faye, really. She's so in everyone's faces," sniffed Merka. "I mean, I'd hate to say this, but I don't like her at all. And it's not just because I'm lesbian."

Kitty nodded again. "Okay, so… what are we concluding from all this? Jennifer shows up to breakfast all dishevelled and moody about something. J's not even here. Neither of them was in their rooms last night. You think that…?"

"We've got to report it," Merka and Franklin said immediately.

"Yeah, if he raped her…" Megan shook her head. "Oh my god… what if… I never thought this was possible. I mean, if we survived two semesters of Francis doing nothing worse than kissing us…"

"J's an outlier, and he's perfectly capable of it," Franklin snapped. "Look at him. He's practically the personification of the patriarchal society that feminist theories often criticise. He can't get away with something like that."

"The worst thing is, we're talking about this after it's been done," Taylor sighed.

* * *

Mary Crawford was _not_ amused.

"Hello," she said stiffly to the heavily-pregnant dark-haired girl lying on her bed in the Medical Ward. "It's a _pleasure_ to meet you. I'm Mary Crawford… _Fraser_."

The girl looked rather taken aback by her coldness. "The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Fraser," she replied as cordially as she could, shaking Mary's hand.

"Indeed," sniffed Mary. Pleasure was all hers, _humph_! Well, _that_ was true.

"Mary, do be more cordial," pleaded Mr. Hugh as he took a seat by the girl's side. "I'd hate it if the two of you started bickering now."

"Do you expect your wife to _gladly_ greet your mistress?" growled Mary.

"Mistress!" exclaimed the girl. "I am not! We're just friends!"

"That's what they all say," Mary drawled as she took a seat as well.

"Mary, please. That is quite enough. You know not to upset an expectant mother," Mr. Hugh whispered.

"I am just frankly appalled that you are standing up for _her_," hissed Mary, "against your own lawfully wedded _wife_!"

"Now who's the jealous one?" Mr. Hugh shrugged.

"Hugh! Take me seriously, for crying out loud!" Mary glared at him. "You may do whatever pleases you, since I have no say in your personal matters and I do not control you, but if you_ expect_ me to become bosom friends with the woman that _you are seeing behind my back_, think again!"

"I do not expect friendship at this stage!" Mr. Hugh exclaimed. "I only want reconciliation. The two of you have only heard rumours about the other, and no doubt prejudices have already been formed from that. It would do me great pleasure if you two can come to an agreement, even if it is to disagree. I want you two to know _who_ the other person truly is. I am not expecting friendship, only a mutual understanding. Friendship is an ideal stage that I do not expect to achieve."

"An entente cordiale," sniffed Mary. "Try harder, your Excellency."

"That's exactly it, Mary. From now until the due date, the only expectation I have of you regarding this is that you will accompany me whenever I visit Takara. Not only will you be guaranteeing my good behaviour, but you will get to know her beyond 'the girl that my husband impregnated'."

Mary Crawford was still not amused, especially when Nurse Suzine appeared with a message. Mr. Hugh took the message and read it through, frowning.

"What is it?" Takara asked as he looked up again. Mary said nothing. She had spent years reminding herself to not barge in on Hugh's affairs. She wasn't about to begin now.

"Attacks are beginning. Little scouting parties of Mary Sues are trying to assess the defences of our campus," Mr. Hugh whispered.

"Do you think I can return to help the Nurses?"

"Florance is anticipating your return, but she only expects you after Emma's birth and your recovery," the Course Coordinator replied.

Somehow, the way they continued to interact without acknowledging Mary stung her deeply. She had prided herself on being able to provide for and present a respectable family, for being able to manage a household and serve on him in the traditional way. She had prided herself on making little sacrifices for him and keeping her usually vivacious and Italian personality under wraps whenever he needed her to. She was the perfect Victorian wife. Hugh had loved her then.

What was it, then, about Takara? Mary knew the times had changed, but she was surprised that her husband (when he was acting as her husband; she really had minimal contact with his Allen side) had changed as well. That scared her a bit, to be honest. Granted, he was essentially still the same Hugh – polite yet temperamental, and a hard worker to boot – but more things had disappeared than just the beard.

She wasn't sure _what_ had disappeared, though. Maybe his expectations of a wife had changed to suit the times. Maybe he didn't fancy cosmopolitan blondes like her any more.

All of it hurt, no matter how she looked at it.

* * *

The Threesome (plus Kitty, Merka, Kriss, and Franklin) headed down towards the Hospital Wing. On the way, Dorothy and Carolina joined in once they heard about what happened.

"I thought I heard some thumps and stuff last night," Carolina admitted as they broke into a run just outside the infirmary. "Sounded like struggling."

"There were shouts and screams," Dorothy added. The two sisters had moved in together, letting their own roommates bunk together as well. Not that that was a big deal, since Laurel Martin and Skye Pierce both liked Prussia.

"Good, we need more witnesses," Franklin said, smiling at Carolina. She turned as red as a tomato and looked away. Dorothy rolled her eyes.

They burst into the Hospital Wing to see Jennifer already there, talking to Dr. Froyd. Nurse Clara Bartan was standing by, taking notes.

"Jennifoos!" panted Megan. "I'm so sorry for not realising it sooner!"

"What?" Jennifer echoed. She paused. "Oh, that, right. I'm sorry for misleading you."

"Wait, what?" The entire group stopped short.

"Misleading?" echoed Kitty. "What exactly happened?"

Dr. Froyd shook his head. "This is a private situation, Miss Smith. Nurse Bartan can either confirm or deny your suspicions, but she will not tell you anything. Am I correct, Clara?"

"Yes," Clara nodded, looking over at them. "It's not what you think."

"It's not rape? So she _agreed_?" Megan demanded, flabbergasted.

Jennifer peered at them from behind Nurse Clara. "It was just assault," she said in a small voice. "He had me pinned against the wall and… threatened me… and tried to get me to blow him off…"

Megan cringed. "Oh my Germania," she muttered.

"But then this chick called Luciya Emi von Kyuute appeared," continued Jennifer, her voice getting stronger. "And he went off with her since she agreed to sleep with him in return for some favour. I got out of there as quickly as I could." She sniffled. "I still… can't believe it…"

"You could believe it from a guy like him, dear," Megan said consolingly, taking a seat next to her on the hospital bed. She tried to hug Jennifer, but the other fangirl shied away in alarm. "Oh, right. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Jennifer looked down. "I… I don't know what to do about it, though. Where is he? What if he returns and tries to finish what he started? Or even worse, what if he tries to do it to someone else?"

"At least you told someone," Carolina said consolingly.

"And we'll warn everyone about him," added Kitty bracingly. "On the chart, we'll mark his name with 'BED INTRUDER' in big black letters so no one will think about even holding his hand."

Jennifer smiled, despite the tears in her eyes. "I still think that… if I hadn't –"

"It's not your fault," snapped Taylor. "It's never the victim's fault."

Dr. Froyd cleared his throat. "So… have you… made a decision? Will you press charges against Mr. J to Mr. Allen?"

Jennifer nodded.

* * *

"Damn, you do it fucking good," drawled Mighty Major J as he smirked at the Mary Sue. She giggled, tossing her long blonde hair behind a shoulder and winking saucily at him. Sashaying her hips, she walked up to him and pressed her body against his. "Mm, yes. Right there, baby."

"You have the information, I believe?" Luciya Emi von Kyuute, the personification of Angelland, purred as he pressed a kiss to her ahoge. She moaned. "Yes, baby, do that again."

"Oh yes, I have the information," Mighty Major J replied, flexing his muscles obnoxiously. "Lots of it. And it's all in my pants."

"Oh you," snorted Luciya, pushing him down onto her plush pink bed. Exactly how a Mary Sue could tote around a plush pink bed in what was deemed enemy territory without being caught was a mystery. Maybe one should blame the plotholes, considering that they were somehow also in a swanky penthouse flat overlooking Angelland Beach by sunset. "You know what I mean, right? Information on your school."

"Oh, yeah, the defences and shit," Mighty Major J shrugged. "Sure, I got them. But first, you're going to see why they call me _Mighty_ Major J."

It can be easily said, then, that the rest of the scene would have scarred people like Susanna Black-White for life.


	60. A School Divided

**Notes:** I'm sorry, **CrazyLittleGirl116**, but I got seriously horrid vibes from his registration form. And to be honest, it's not that much to turn a flirting-with-girls guy into a rapist, especially when he also brags about himself too much. Someone like him, who seems to be a buffer, more arrogant Francis with much less class, doesn't seem to be capable of taking rejection without resorting to something as immature as assault. I guess I should have asked for clarification before I turned him into this, but the way I read his form was that he didn't respect women, that he was aggressive, and that he boasts about himself to the point that he wouldn't know what to do if a girl turns him down (and I usually take the characters seriously regarding their personalities, unless it's rather obvious that they're not meant to be serious business). The event is not your fault entirely; I am just using him like all the other characters – a plot device, a foil for the other males, etc.  
And who knows? Maybe being ostracised will make him realise that acting the way he does is not going to get him laid.

**Additional Disclaimer:** I do not own any Sue colours other than Bled. And there is no Official Fanfiction University for Kuroshitsuji.

**Warning:** Mentions of controversial material (specifically, religion).

* * *

**Part X**

"What are you playing, Midori?" Chibitalia asked in Art class. It was already mid-April; the first semester students were scheduled to enter the maze at the end of May.

"Reverie, by Claude Debussy," the part-musician said as she continued to draw to the tune of a piano playing.

"That sounds like something Mr. Austria plays for me often," the little Italian boy replied, smiling wistfully. "All right, so we're going to talk about colour theory today. Who here has heard of the colour wheel?"

Several hands went up. "Good, good! For those who don't know, the colour wheel is a circle of the most primary colours in colour theory. This first diagram shows the primary colours." Chibitalia held up a giant poster. "Red, yellow, and blue are the three pigment colours that cannot be created by combining other colours, since all other colours come from these three. Now, what happens when you mix blue and red?"

"Bled happens!" Rain Kayheart called.

"Well, yes, and what about Bled's nice sister?"

"Purple happens!" hollered Holly Newell.

"Exactly, ve! Purple is what you get when you mix blue and red properly. What happens when you mix red and yellow?"

"Orange!" called Ru Tsuna.

"Good! And lastly, what about blue and yellow?"

"Green!" hollered Margaret Yao.

"Excellent! So, green, orange and purple are what we call secondary colours, which are colours formed by mixing primary colours." Chibitalia held up a second giant poster with the primary and secondary colours. "Do you notice that all the colours at the bottom are what we call 'cool colours' and the colours at the top are the 'warm colours'? Red, orange, and yellow are 'warm colours' because we associate them with warmth, like fire and light; green, blue and purple are 'cool colours' because we associate them with coolness, like the ocean. What do the primary and secondary colours form?"

"A RAINBOW!" cheered Yuri Yamaguchi.

"Yes, yes!" Chibitalia held up a third chart. "Now, look at this. These show primary colours, secondary colours, and tertiary colours. Tertiary colours are: yellow-orange, red-orange, red-purple, blue-purple, blue-green, and yellow-green. How do you think they're formed?"

"By mixing primary colours with secondary colours!" exclaimed Amanda Robinson.

Chibitalia nodded. "Excellent. And now we get to the impossibly-mixed colours, or Suvian colour theory."

The students sat up a little straighter.

"Here is where an understanding of art becomes important for writing!" Chibitalia exclaimed as he shuffled the giant posters. "If your Original Character has eyes that somehow are purple and pink at the same time, the result is horrible. If your Original Character has skin that is 'milky rose', the result is also horrible. If a sunset that you're trying to describe is gold and rose-coloured at the same time –"

"The result is blindingly horrible," deadpanned the class.

"Exactly, ve!" Chibitalia held up a posterboard coloured a horrendous shade of turquoise and yellow. "This is Blello. It is turquoise and yellow mixed together."

"Get that away from my eyes!" squealed Laisai Delavie.

"Colours like Blello can't be seen as they are now in a realistic setting, so any cans of Blello or Bled paint that you might want to take home will not have a blinding effect once in the real world."

"Then why were the letters and enrolment forms so blinding when we got them?" wondered Alice Wang.

"Bled stationery here has been processed with enough Glitter to retain their hues in the real world, but as the paper ages, the Glitter will fade," Chibitalia replied. "Okay, next colour!"

"EW!" screamed Isabella Mitchell. "What is that?"

"Bleen," Chibitalia said serenely. "It's either blue and green or black and green; no one can really tell."

"That's disgusting!" whimpered Mars McMillan.

"Not as bad as Crimsun!" chirped Chibitalia as he held up the next poster. "This is hot pink, lime green, and orange!"

"PLEASE, STOP!" wailed Rinaldia.

"I have to show all of them!" Chibitalia exclaimed before holding up the next poster. "This is Hreen, which is a mixture of hazel and green. Apparently someone thought their Mary Sue needed eyes this colour!"

"That's so confusing," whimpered Holly Newell. Several students were curled up in the foetal position. Mars McMillan had started sucking his thumb.

"This is Glose," continued Chibitalia, nearly blinding half the class as he held up the next poster. "It's golden-rose, and it's often featured in bad sunsets."

"That's disgusting. I'm never calling the sky 'golden with hints of rose' anymore," grumbled Crystal Xu.

Was Chibitalia actually _cackling_ as he showed them the next colour? So the theory of cute things being evil was actually true! "This is rolky-mose, often shown as a skin colour for Sues and their love interests. Since they're usually described as having 'milky rose' skin, you know," Chibitalia said, grinning.

"It's blurring my vision," gasped Sidneh Stapler. "Please, momma, make it GO AWAY."

"Then don't use these sorts of descriptions in your stories. Next is Wilver!" Chibitalia waved around a poster coloured with the ugliest possible combination of white and silver. "Obviously, a favourite for Mary Sue wedding dresses! Isn't it lovely?"

"You're a sadist, Chibitalia," complained Izzy Kzaen. "I'd never thought I'd say that, but _dang_."

"I haven't even shown you the worst," Chibitalia replied innocently.

And then he blinded everyone with Urple.

* * *

Before the third week of April was over, everyone (including the Mochis) knew about Jennifer's situation, much to her chagrin. While she appreciated the support, she detested the pitying looks. It wasn't inevitable that she was assaulted; it wasn't her fault that she was walking around alone; and it didn't justify everyone suddenly treating her like she was some sort of volatile element. What was worse, being treated like a piece of meat or a piece of glass?

Nevertheless, the support and revenge vows were wonderful – well, the revenge vows were a little alarming at times, considering that if they had all been carried out, then poor Mighty Major J would have been castrated ten times over. Armed with a spork, Eva Danielson had stormed up to Mighty Major J and attempted to gouge out his eyes. Lucia had to pull her friend away; the other girl was so riled up that she reminded Jennifer of a rabid dog that her art teacher used to keep. Ashton West and MiMi Sonhart had pelted the Z fighter with rotten eggs and radioactive scones. Karen DuLay contributed burnt cookies to the revenge effort.

Naturally, Lucas Arch disapproved of the entire affair. He denounced Mighty Major J's actions, but added that the Z fighter should have done his duty and married Jennifer. That idea was vocally put down by everyone else.

"Marriage is a stupid idea in this case. She'll hate him and he'll abuse her. And according to _your _doctrine, there'd be no way for them to escape it," pointed out Tori Troutman in a lunchtime debate on Wednesday.

"It is the proper way for a man to take responsibility for such an act of passion," Lucas replied serenely.

"Rape is not an act of passion," growled Franklin. "It's an act of hate."

"If you hated someone, why would you bother touching them –?"

"You're getting it wrong, Mr. Protector-of-Innocence," snapped Loki. "If you hate someone, you would want to dominate them, overpower them, and leave them with a lasting impression of you as their controller. That's why rape is a war crime, not a love crime."

"He didn't actually rape her; he assaulted her –"

"Are you sticking up for _him_?" Susanna Black-White demanded suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Susanna, you shouldn't be here," Lucas warned.

"Oh, _really_? I know what went on, Lucas, and I don't like how you're sticking up for her attacker."

"I am not defending the attacker! I am merely saying that he should have done the right thing by –"

"That's a shitty form of justice, and you know it," KyAnna hissed, clapping a hand to Lucas's mouth. Next to her, Blaise Asmodée, Prince of Lechers, was petting Shoste Thermo as she curled up next to him.

"All I find off about the entire thing is that it could have been different, honestly," Blaise drawled lazily. "I mean, he should have charmed her before propositioning anything. To have to stoop for assault is just…" he shook his head.

"Oh, he _knows_ how to charm people," Faye Markus grumbled. "But I think he did that because he's a creeper – a buff, charming creeper – and a douche and no one wants to sleep with creepy douchebags. So he got frustrated."

"Mein Gott, you finally said something intelligent," snickered Andy. Faye sent him a withering glare.

Being the first name on the universal blacklist didn't deter Mighty Major J, however, and several people who tried to avenge Jennifer ended up having to defend themselves as well. After news got out that Karen DuLay got punched in the face for throwing cookies at him, all of the girls flocked to her with sympathy and flowers.

And what did the Staff think of all this?

"Any luck on your appeal?" Shinbun-kun asked Jennifer as she left Mr. Allen's office after class on Thursday. Jennifer squeaked in terror at the sight of him. "Calm down. I'm not going to harm you. I just have some questions for you, since I'm doing an article about all this for the _Bled Chronicles _–"

"Shinbun, I don't think you'd want to ask her about it," another voice cut in. Workbitch had appeared, carrying several books on child care and education. "Darling?"

"Don't call me that," Jennifer growled. Workbitch looked at her, alarmed. "You were there at my appeal, and you didn't stand up for me. Mr. Allen doesn't believe me! It hurts to talk about these things!" She paused. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Jennifer –" Workbitch began to say, but she shook her head.

"That's your problem, Work! You're so passive most of the time; I'm starting to think that if you could, you would let serious things like this slip by –"

"Where were you when I led the investigation back in first semester?" Workbitch demanded.

"Where were you when Takara _started_ persecuting the non-human students? You stepped in when _you_ felt that it had gone too far – but in _our_ eyes that was already too late!"

"Darling, you know I don't have any power unless Mr –"

"Still doesn't explain how you didn't stick up for your own girlfriend after she's been fucking _assaulted_!" Jennifer screamed the last part, before storming off. Shinbun-kun nodded, whistling as soon as the fangirl was out of earshot.

"Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight," he remarked.

"Shut up, Shinbun! This is off the record!" Workbitch snapped, grabbing the reporter's notebook. "Off the record, off the record, off the record. All of it!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, buddy!" Shinbun backed away. "No need to get your knickers in a twist!"

Workbitch turned and watched Jennifer's retreating shadow. "I can't help it," he sighed after a moment.

* * *

"Out of my way, freak!" Faye Markus screeched, shoving Roksana Abdullah out of her way just outside the cafeteria before dinner. All of the students were heading towards the dining hall.

Roksana whirled around, eyes livid. "What was that for?" she demanded. Faye sneered.

"For being a freak," she replied, "for attacking America, and for being a stupid Islamic terrorist!" At that accusation, several people gasped.

Susanna Black-White stepped forward from the ring of students. "You take that back, Faye. You take that back right now!" she screamed. She had barely been alive when 9/11 happened, but she knew that whatever happened then, Roksana did not have a hand in any of it.

"What do you know about it, squirt?" Faye demanded arrogantly.

"Not a lot," Susanna admitted. "But I know enough to know that you can't blame Roksana for something she didn't do."

"She's perfectly capable of it; she's a jihadist," sniffed Faye.

"Excuse me!" several Nerd Group members called, pushing their way to the forefront.

"We resent your incorrect usage of that term!" Anastasia Debby declared, placing her hands on her hips. "And there are differences between Muslims like Roksana and the extremists who make up terrorist organisations in the Middle East – just like there are differences between ordinary conservatives and loonies like you!"

"Last time I checked, the term 'jihad' meant 'holy war'," Faye stated dogmatically.

"You are defining the word from a Western point of view, which is tainted with Western prejudices stemming from terrorist attacks like 9/11," Franklin replied just as dogmatically. "Scholars of Islamic studies clearly delineate between jihad and holy war. It means 'struggle', yes, but it doesn't necessarily mean violence. Used religiously, jihad can refer to an internal struggle to maintain faith, an external struggle to improve Muslim society, or an external struggle to defend Islam. Yahya ibn Sharaf al-Nawawi asserts that –"

"Blah, blah, blah. Muslims still attacked America."

"And bigoted people like you prove why they did," Alice Wang hissed.

"I can't believe all of you would stick up for her race –"

"It's not a race; it's a bloody religion!" snapped Monochrome Cloud. "If you're going to attack something, get your facts straight!"

"It's the reason why we're here," Ryosuke Nakayama said thoughtfully. "To get our facts straight. I suppose the Staff still has some work to do with her." He pointed to Faye.

"Excuse me? Pointing's rude. No one ever taught you manners, did they?" Faye screeched, before slapping Ryosuke. More gasps from the students.

"Oh no you didn't!" It looked as if the entire hallway was going to become the site of a brawl, when suddenly Eevahn and chogoku turned up and blobbed onto Faye, dragging her away to Auchwits. Endland and murika shooed the rest of the students off to dinner.

"They're fighting now," Mary Crawford's voice resounded sadly from farther down the hall, as she and Howard the Spy emerged from their observation alcove. Mary was walking Tip the dachshund; Mr. Hugh had adopted the laser-shooting Cute Animal Friend after Takara had rescued him. She kept the tabby Kura, but other people changed the litter box for her. Cat litter negatively affected pregnancies, after all.

"They've always been fighting," Howard pointed out. "They're divided over so many things – ship preferences, favourite characters…"

"No, they're seriously fighting now. Those arguments about religion and conservatism are starting to get violent."

"Some of the newer students have very unpopular opinions," replied the spy, kneeling down to pet Tip. "Like that Lucas Arch fellow. He was harmless right until he started preaching Christianity. Then we had to implement the religious censors."

"What's wrong with preaching?" Mary asked. "If he does good deeds, then why –"

"Mary, we're a secular organisation. If the canon doesn't explicitly mention religion, then we try to limit preaching as well. It's not just Christianity – had they talked about the Qur'an, Allah, and the Prophet with the intention of converting others, the censor would have kicked in, too."

Mary sighed. "So is it the religious and extremely right-wing students versus everyone else?" she asked.

"You could look at it that way." Howard nodded. Outside, the April rain poured on. April showers may bring May flowers, but right now the black market was experiencing a boom in umbrella dealings.

"It's serious, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. One of Alfred's bosses once said that a 'house divided against itself cannot stand', and… well, if we can't reconcile everyone, it's easier for IAHF to be infiltrated. In fact, I fear it's already starting to happen…"

Mary shook her head sadly.

* * *

Friday morning brought news of a seminar on Saturday. Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis were scheduled to teach 'Canon or Fanon?' with help from Ludwig, Arthur, and Alfred.

_So we'll finally figure out where the five metres thing came from, right_? Charley Maytha asked at breakfast.

_I can't wait_, Mirabelle replied, innocently taking one of Hotaru Horenake's pictures of South Italy.

Any excited chatter, however, was quickly quashed when the door to the cafeteria burst open and a young man who looked remarkably like Enrique Iglesias walked into the room. He even had the beauty spot on his cheek.

"Hello," he said innocently, taking a seat at the Special People table. "I'm Dirk. I'm a new transfer student."

The others looked at each other. "Really?" asked Ema Skye, looking enthralled. Over at the Nerd Table, Carolina Brown was staring unabashedly at him. Dorothy Brown rolled her eyes; Bianca Bonnie Bishop at the next table snickered.

"Oh, yeah. Transferred over from the…" Dirk paused. "Official Fanfiction University of… Kuroshitsuji."

"OH MY GOD, YOU SAW SEBBY?" screamed Yuki-rin, clapping her hands gleefully. "Did you? Did you?"

Jennifer looked away to see Megan, staring at the new arrival as if in a trance. "Adding him to your wall?" she asked hesitantly.

"Wh-? Oh, right, I wish. But no. I can't."

"Why not?" wondered Merka. "He looks pretty cute."

"He's my brother," Megan replied.

"Your _brother_?" Kitty Smith demanded from across the table. "Damn, you two have the good genes."

"Are you sure he transferred in?" wondered Anita Khok. "I mean…"

"Don't question it. We have eye candy. Don't question the extra eye candy."

Jennifer said nothing for the rest of breakfast. Afterwards, they skirted by Mighty Major J on their way to the Comparative Governments classroom; the Z fighter was skulking in a corner of an alcove in the hallway.

"What are we going to talk about today, I wonder?" Kriss began to ask as they entered the classroom, but she (and everyone else) groaned at the sight of an evilly grinning Nataliya.

"You have a test on authoritarianism today," the Belarusian announced as they all took their seats. "Fail to pass and I'll make a present of your head to my brother."

The students shuddered. Arthur shook his head sadly.

* * *

"Please make sure you know how to spell my name," Roderich snapped in 'What's in a Name' class. "I am Roderich Edelstein – R-O-D-E-R-I-C-H, space, E-D-E-L-S-T-E-I-N. I represent Austria. That's A-U-S-T-R-I-A, not A-U-S-T-R-A-L-I-A. That 'AL' makes a difference. There are no kangaroos in Austria, for crying out loud!"

The students sighed and continued to watch Roderich pace the space in front of the podium. "Let's further cement the difference between Austria and Australia, shall we? Austria is in Europe. Australia is its own continent. Austria was settled by Germanic tribes in ancient times. Australia was settled by British criminals. Austria has pianos and tortes. Australia has Vegemite. Austria is the birthplace of Mozart. Australia is the birthplace of Natalie Imbruglia. Arnold Schwarzenegger came from Austria. Nicole Kidman came from Australia. Can you tell the differences now? Gut."

Andy stubbed out a cigarette and took notes; the girl next to him, Vesper Santos, had fallen asleep. He poked her.

Vesper woke up grumpily. "What?"

"Pay attention," hissed Andy.

"I don't even like him."

"It's going to be on the test."

"Shit, what's going to be on the test?"

"No talking, Mr. Kirk and Miss Santos," snapped Mr. Allen.

Vesper rolled her eyes and fell back into sleep. Andy groaned.

After class, he met Sara Parker outside the Comparative Governments classroom. Sara was complaining to Merka about something about mixing up authoritarian leaders. Merka didn't seem to be listening.

"Hey, Sara," Andy said, tapping her on the shoulder. The Canada fangirl turned around, smiling slightly at the sight of him.

"What's up?" she asked casually, as Merka caught up with Kriss and Jennifer. "I was just complaining about Belarus's test today. She sprung one on us about authoritarianism."

"Lovely. How'd you do?"

"Horrid," Sara sniffed. "What about your class?"

"It could have been worse. Germania-Sword could have been lecturing," Andy replied, shrugging. "We listened to Roderich blabber on about the differences between Austria and Australia."

"Let me guess, he talked about Nicole Kidman," snickered Sara.

"Yeah, did he do that with you, too?"

"Of course," Sara replied, rummaging around in her bag. "Wanna go somewhere else for lunch? Like the bank of Lank Erie, or something. I got some of Ivan's vodka."

"How did you manage to do that?" Andy demanded, whistling.

"Mm, I have my sources." Sara smirked evilly. "Shall we?"

"Certainly." The two of them headed out of the building towards the lake, as rainclouds prepared to unleash another torrent later in the evening.

Neither of them noticed Dirk watching them from a nearby alcove.


	61. Murder at the Fanfiction Academy

**Notes:** Quick note of clarification regarding the Sue colours: they are _supposed _to be impossible to recreate. Granted, I know black and white are shades, but Mary Sues manage to incorporate them and all other colours in a way that Real World science cannot comprehend. Go look up Suvian colour theory on the PPC Wiki to get the full details.  
And Urple is supposed to be pink and purple mixed in the worst possible way; it'd be a beyond-magenta sort of colour. Since magenta's fugly to begin with, so…

**Additional Disclaimer:** I don't own the Death Eaters.

* * *

**Part XI**

On the auspicious Saturday morning of 16 April, Mr. Hugh Fraser woke up anticipating a long day of educating fanbrats. The promised 'Canon or Fanon?' seminar was scheduled for early afternoon, because Gilbert and Antonio liked to sleep in and Alfred wanted to watch Saturday morning cartoons on the telly. Sure enough, sounds of obnoxiously explosive cartoons could be heard from the American's room, quickly followed by Arthur's hollers to 'turn down that outrageous racket'.

Mr. Hugh got out of bed and walked to the window, opening the drapes to make sure Charlie Tenterden wasn't waiting outside to watch him dress for the day. He then checked the drapes themselves to make sure Charlie Tenterden hadn't installed cameras into the curtains. Anything was possible with an insistent fanboy like Charlie.

Tip, Mr. Hugh's adopted Cute Animal Friend, was still snoring in his basket in the corner. Eraser, a giant pink eraser that looked vaguely like Mr. Hugh and liked erasing various body parts, lay next to the little dachshund. Mr. Hugh smiled as soon as he had made sure that his room was bug-free, and then started unbuttoning his nightshirt.

BANG! His door banged open right when he had taken off his shirt. Alarmed, the Course Coordinator spun around and immediately flung the shirt back on, grabbing it closed as he levelled a nasty glare at the intruder.

"Murder! Murder in the Staff Section, sir! Thought you'd like to know," gasped Shinbun-kun before tearing down the hall yelling the news.

Mr. Hugh frowned, closing the door after the reporter. Murder in the Staff Section, indeed. Already, people were thundering down the hall to see the victim for themselves. The Course Coordinator cursed softly before quickly dressing himself (in his rush, he buttoned his shirt all improperly and forgot to zip the fly to his trousers) and rushing to the scene of the crime.

"XYZ," snickered Alfred, nudging Mr. Hugh as he pushed his way through the Staff crowd. Feeling his cheeks heat up, the Course Coordinator quickly zipped his pants and looked about warily.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "Let me through, please." The group was crowding around the door to the room of the crime scene, blocking his way in. "I'm the Course Coordinator, damn it! Let me through!"

But the Staff had other ideas. "I don't know if you want to see this, Hugh," pleaded Seychelles, taking his arm gently. "You won't like it."

"Why?" Mr. Hugh asked, before he saw why. All of the colour drained out of his face.

* * *

Jennifer woke from a nightmare to hear something about murder. Megan had invited in Kitty and Karen Sanghieh, and they were talking in low, worried whispers.

"Bonjourno, Jennifer," Karen Sanghieh said cheerily.

"Bonjour to you too," Jennifer muttered, pulling the covers over her head. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Murder," Kitty replied. "Shinbun-kun was yelling about it. Said someone got murdered in the Staff Section."

Jennifer sat bolt upright. "Who?" she demanded, face pale.

"I don't know," Kitty answered. "He was just screaming about murder."

"He said something about the victim being close to Mr. Allen," Karen pointed out.

"Shit!" Jennifer jumped out of bed and ducked into the closet to change. When she emerged (Megan snickered something about coming out of the closet; Jennifer stuck her tongue out at her), she practically jumped into her rain boots and hurriedly flung on her mackintosh. Outside, the rain fell in torrents.

When Jennifer flashed her pass at the Mochis outside the Staff Section, she looked like she had crawled out of Lake Eric. Rainwater – or tears – blurred her vision as she raced down the hallway, heart pounding heavily. Who was the murder victim? Was it Workbitch?

For a moment, she stopped to catch her breath. The Staff Section was eerily quiet. What if it _was_ Workbitch? A life without… Jennifer banished the thought. She didn't want to think about life without him.

"You look like a drowned cat," someone noted. Jennifer nearly screamed – whether out of terror or anger, she couldn't tell. She whirled around to see Workbitch looking at her shrewdly.

Jennifer took a couple of deep breaths before screaming, "SHUT UP!" at the top of her lungs. Workbitch's eyes widened.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You had me _worried_! Shinbun-kun was yelling about murder in the Staff Section, and I was so scared that it was you!" Jennifer wasn't sure if she was crying or if her drenched hair was dripping water down her face; all she knew was that one moment she was yelling at Workbitch and the next moment (suppressing all immediate urges to avoid contact) she was sobbing into his chest. "Damn it! Damn you! I'm so sorry! I don't even know what to say anymore!"

Workbitch gently patted her back. "Is it okay for me to hold you?" he asked after a moment. "I don't want to trigger anything."

"Just be gentle, and I might be fine," Jennifer said hesitantly. "And not too tightly… I might have claustrophobia now…"

He laughed, but held her at arm's length nonetheless. "We might have to get _that_ checked." Pause. "You know, I never really clarified, dear… but I believe you. Mr. Allen's just been having a horrid time of it with all of the bad news that he's getting, and he doesn't want to take the extra workload from your, er, case. But I can ask him to let me handle things."

"Oh." Jennifer turned bright red. "You don't have to. I was just really emotionally exhausted from the appeal, and really frustrated that Mr. Allen –"

"I insist. You said I'm too passive. I'm not very proactive, that I'll concede. I take things as they come along."

Jennifer sniffled. "I don't know what I'd do without you, though," she admitted.

He smiled and kissed her forehead gently. "Same here," he said after a moment. By now, Jennifer had ruined his outfit, but strangely enough, he didn't mind.

* * *

"Mary!" Mr. Hugh exclaimed, rushing into the room. The rest of what he was going to say was lost as he opened his mouth in a noiseless cry.

Mary Crawford laid there, her eyes wide but unseeing. Already, MI6 Arthur was drawing a chalk circle around her. DGSE Francis and CIA Alfred were dusting for fingerprints.

"Mary, please," pleaded Mr. Hugh, in a classic move of the lover-in-denial. "Don't be dead…"

"It's a bit late for that," Nurse Florance said frankly as Dr. Froyd and the other nurses lifted Mary into a stretcher. "We'll take her to the Hospital Wing and run an autopsy."

They put a sheet over her and raced the stretcher down to the Hospital Wing. Mr. Hugh followed, shaking with sobs.

"It'll be all right," Seychelles comforted, patting his back. Mr. Hugh shook his head, but took her proffered handkerchief. They rushed after Nurse Florance and the other Hospital staff. Outside the infirmary, Shinbun, Workbitch, and Howard stood. Workbitch was holding that student he was seeing, Jennifer Chang, protectively.

"Workbitch, we have resurrection papers to file," snapped Mr. Hugh, before pausing. In a gentler voice, he added, "I know you want to press disciplinary actions on the student who attacked Miss Chang. We'll talk about that later." Workbitch nodded, whispering something to Jennifer. She nodded before hugging him and leaving. The secretary joined the Course Coordinator; together, they entered the Hospital Wing.

"Who was the victim?" Howard the Spy asked as he entered after Shinbun. Shinbun was eagerly scribbling away in his reporter's notebook, eagerly prying for details from the nurses.

"Mary Crawford," replied Clara Bartan. All of the colour drained from Howard's face.

"No!" he exclaimed. "Impossible!"

Mr. Hugh nodded. "I feel horrible," he said after a moment, his voice sounding rather thick, "for being a horrid husband. I neglected her because I was distracted… and now she's gone again."

"Don't swear vengeance. There's no way you'll be able to handle everything _and_ a vow of revenge," Nurse Florance warned. Mr. Hugh wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

"I never said I was going to swear vengeance…" he mumbled. "I just feel so guilty…"

Howard was muttering something in Italian over Mary's corpse; he seemed to be shaking with tears as well. Florance sighed and shooed all of them out of the Hospital Wing.

"We'll have her examined, all right? You'll get the results of the autopsy later, and then we can look at the resurrection paperwork," she said briskly, closing the door in their faces. Workbitch looked over at Mr. Hugh, who was still shaking with sobs.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. Mr. Hugh nodded, not saying anything.

* * *

"Welcome, welcome, to the 'Canon or Fanon?' game show!" Gilbert Beilschmidt yelled into a microphone. Everyone was gathered in the Orientation Hall after lunch, with some people looking ready to drop off into nap-land. "Today we'll be calling up six members of the audience to participate! Do we have any volunteers?"

Immediately hands went up. "Each one of us will pick someone," Francis suggested. "I pick… uh, you there, the boy with the blond dreadlocks!"

"I choose the little Asian boy with glasses!" Antonio exclaimed.

Gilbert pursed his lips. "You there! Yeah, you, the chick who always gives West cookies."

"I choose… uh, the ninja zombie girl!" Alfred yelled.

"Franklin Livingston, come on up," Arthur growled. "I'm only choosing you because you're intelligent, compared to the rest of the dimwits up here."

"Hey!" Kazuma Miyafuji complained. "I'm not a dimwit!"

"Good luck, Franklin!" Taylor called, making a heart with his hands.

Ludwig groaned, as Gilbert forcefully directed Karen DuLay to her seat on the panel. "Must I select someone?" he demanded.

"Ja, West, look! Everyone wants you to pick them," Gilbert cackled.

Ludwig sighed. "Girl in the Prussian blue trenchcoat, come on up," he snapped.

Erika Verena von Richthofen-Marlowe strode up to the dais and took her seat in between Andrew Khok and Sam Smith.

"All right! The objectives of this game are simple. We put up a name, a character quirk, a common belief, or something else like that. You will either press the red button or the green button. The red button stands for fanon; the green button stands for canon. If you press the wrong button, a trapdoor opens under your chair and you get a free ride to the Mochi Spawning Pits!"

Jennifer and several other students immediately thanked their various undisclosed deities (or deity) for not being selected.

"Naturally, that means someone else must take their spot. We'll keep going until we run out of statements or students, whichever comes first. Got that?"

Anyone who believed in prayer started praying. Lucas was running through his rosary beads so fast that his hands were blurred.

"First statement!" Arthur called. "Sealand can eat my food."

Kazuma, Andrew, and Sam pressed 'canon', while Franklin, Karen, and Erika pressed 'fanon'. The former three disappeared through the trapdoor.

"Yes, this is fanon," Arthur noted, as the trapdoors closed. "People naturally assume that since Alfred can eat my cooking, so can Peter. Canon doesn't say explicitly, so therefore this is fanon. But let's get things straight. Fanon in this fandom is perfectly acceptable as long as you know it's fanon." He paused. "We'll need three more volunteers."

Karen Sanghieh, Arianna Borrel, and Mike Hawk took the recently vacated seats. "Austria is not a virgin."

Karen Sanghieh, Karen DuLay, Erika, and Franklin pressed the 'canon' button; Arianna Borrel and Mike Hawk disappeared down the trapdoor. They were replaced by Alosio Guerra and Mars McMillan.

"Japan was deflowered by Greece," read Francis. Everyone pressed the 'canon' button, and everyone disappeared.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHAT?" screamed the Giripan fans. "What do you mean by that?"

"Until they disclose what happened during the private lessons, we must assume that Kiku and Heracles did not do anything suggestive," Arthur replied.

"Actually, if you look at the miniatures strip between Kiku and Feliciano, it's also likely that Feliciano deflowered Kiku," Francis pointed out. "Either way, Kiku doesn't seem to be an advocate of real relationships. He's a bit obsessed with 2D."

Six new volunteers were selected. Violet-Hime, Mariam Webb, Izzy Kzaen, sierra akoti, William Ofritas, and Gregory Bob Walton sat in their seats nervously, eying the buttons warily.

"Prussia's bird is called 'Gilbird'," Antonio read.

Mariam, sierra, and Violet pressed 'canon' and promptly disappeared.

"Yup, that's fanon," Gilbert noted. "Although I like the name well enough. Next!"

Kiri Olaveja, Cristiana Moretti, and Tori Troutman replaced the disappeared students.

"Prussia's dick is five metres long," Alfred read. Kiri, Izzy, and Gregory pressed 'canon' and disappeared.

"Honestly, that was the easiest question ever," sniffed Arthur. "If it was canon, then Gilbert would never be able to screw anyone without killing them."

They quickly selected Airlia Asteri, Luna (the one who insisted on being called Amethest), and Aki Chung-Feng.

"New Zealand is blond," read Ludwig. William, Cristiana, Amethest, Airlia, and Kiri pressed 'fanon' and disappeared.

"Yup, that's canon," Arthur nodded as Alfred called up Sara Parker, Ryosuke Nakayama, Aida Hor, Korah Lyons, and Shoste Thermo. "Next question!"

"Canada calls France his 'papa'," read Antonio.

Sara, Tori, Aida, and Korah pressed 'canon' and disappeared.

Gradually, the students diminished in numbers. Jennifer had been selected to answer if Prussia had ever threatened to seize vital regions in canon. She had picked 'canon' and then found herself falling down a chute (apparently Austria was the one behind the vital regions statement; Prussia never said anything about seizing them himself) and landing on something soft and squishy. It wriggled. She screamed.

"We're over here!" someone called in the darkness. Jennifer stumbled onto her feet and peered into the dark. The lack of light scared her immensely. What if it happened again? It could happen; wasn't Mighty Major J down here after answering the 'France raped England after the Suez Canal Crisis' question wrong? Anything about any Nation in Hetalia raping his or her peers was an immediate 'fanon' answer, after all.

"Who's there?" Jennifer called into the darkness.

"Karen DuLay!" that someone called. "There's more light over here, but then again, there are Mochis doing their business here."

"What?" Jennifer stumbled through the gloom, groping for walls and nearly tripping over a staircase. She climbed it, and suddenly discovered the Mochi Spawning Pits.

Apparently expectant Mochis (despite their namesakes having gender, Mochis themselves lacked distinct gender differences when it came to reproductive parts. Considering that they copulated through a dual blobbing ritual, it really was no wonder) came here to lay their baby Mochis. Baby Mochis, as Jennifer soon found out, looked just like the ice-cream Mochis her mum often bought at the local Asian supermarket. They were little, had no expressions, and would not develop any characteristics until the next misspelling. Then they developed characteristics and expressions matching those of their namesakes, not their parents. Nevertheless, there was something cute about the faceless baby Mochis, which definitely meant that they were a Special Kind of Evil.

"When are we getting out of here?" wondered Merka as Kriss absentmindedly petted a baby Mochi.

"Very soon, I hope," Jennifer muttered, as Cain Harren made his way into the pit with a fascinated glint in his eyes.

"So this is what Hell looks like," he gasped.

"Naw, there's more partying in Hell," cackled Loki Shadow Reave. "You know what they say: Heaven's a cockblock, Hell's a party, and the Death Eaters are in a special section of Hell so they can't cockblock." Cain snorted.

"But of course," he sighed, watching Shoste and Blaise cuddle in an even-darker-than-dark corner.

Lucas Arch appeared moments later, looking repulsed. "Welcome to Hell," Cain said, grinning at his friend. Lucas rolled his eyes.

"Where are the German policemen, the French mechanics, the British cooks, the Swiss lovers, and the Italian bankers?" he demanded.

"Oh, that's very perceptive," snickered Loki.

"They're too busy having a chestnut banquet with Pope Pedobear," called Blaise from his corner. "You know, Rodrigo Borgia."

"Pope Alexander the Sixth?" echoed Lucas. "The one with the murderous daughter?"

"He thought he was going to Heaven, but apparently he got expelled –" Loki started to say, but she was distracted by something glowing. "There's someone here."

"You sure it's not another Mochi getting its face?" Cain asked, but he was cut off by several excited squeals.

"Dirk!" Kitty Smith exclaimed. "Thank the Powers that Be, you're –"

"Shhh," Dirk whispered, tiptoeing towards a groove in the wall. "I know a passage out of here."

"You do?" several students exclaimed.

"Yeah, over here." Dirk grabbed the groove and pulled. Part of the wall swung out, exposing the light from the hallway. "It leads the hallway outside the Staff Section."

"How do you know this?" Lucas demanded.

"I just do," Dirk replied innocently. "You want to escape, don't you? This is the way out. Now move!"

Everyone rushed out. Lucas brought up the rear with Dirk. The Angel could tell there was something highly suspicious about the new exchange student who somehow knew these things about the school, despite being new. He frowned.

Dirk regarded him coolly.

* * *

Later that evening, Jennifer met Workbitch outside the Staff Section. "I got a cake before dinner today. It said 'SORY' in lurid blue frosting," she said, hesitantly taking his hands.

"Your attacker wanted to apologise?" Workbitch wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

"If he was sorry, he'd have spelt the word right," sniffed Jennifer. "But anyways. Any leads on the murder?"

"We got the autopsy this afternoon, and I'm supposed to be filling out the resurrection papers."

"Bureaucracy. Blame the French," Jennifer remarked. "What did the autopsy say?"

"Poison," Workbitch replied, as they walked into the Staff Section. "Specifically, a powerful post-synaptic neurotoxin."

"What?" Jennifer asked, frowning.

"The poison paralysed her muscles, leading to a fatal heart attack," Workbitch replied. "Based on the bite marks on her neck and ankles, we can guess that she was bitten by a snake."

"What type?"

"_Naja naja_, or the Indian cobra." Workbitch stopped at his room. "That means that a snake may be loose in IAHF – or someone is controlling it, and they might mark someone else as its next victim."

A chill shot down Jennifer's spine. "Who could be the controller?"

"I'm more concerned about the next victim," Workbitch replied. "Who could be the next _victim_?"


	62. Apparently Harvard Equals Heaven

**Additional Disclaimer:** I do not own the fandom that Shoste comes from (aka Homestuck).

* * *

**Part XII**

**MURDER AT THE FANFICTION ACADEMY**

_Mary Crawford, the wife of IAHF Course Coordinator Hugh Fraser, was found dead on 16 April in the Staff Section._

_Upon performing an autopsy, the multi-talented Hospital Staff has deduced that Crawford died from snakebite._

"_We've managed to figure out that Mary died from a fatal heart attack that came as a result of the snakebite," Nurse Hélène Fairchild says. "The poison came from the Indian cobra, scientifically known as _Naja naja_."_

_Mr. Hugh has already ordered an investigation headed by his secretary Workbitch Bartholomew and Nurse Florance Nightingail. These two were responsible for catching the culprit behind the Glitter Bomb in first semester, and Mr. Hugh has high expectations of them this time as well._

_In the meantime, students and Staff alike are voicing concerns over their own safety, not to mention suspicions about the killer._

"_I suspect L'Angleterre," Staff member Francis Bonnefois says. "He colonised L'Inde, after all, so he could have learnt how to control the snakes there."_

"_I suspect Andrew Yugi Kross," student Megan says. "He has a pet cobra, after all."_

"_I don't know who the killer is, and I don't want to believe that my peers are capable of murder," student Dorothy Brown says. "In the meantime, I'm more concerned about the innocent. Who will be next? I don't want to know."_

* * *

It felt like McCarthy Alfred's Sparkly Terrorist Hunt all over again. Not only did the students have to fear for their virtue at the hands of a certain Z fighter, but they also had to fear for their life. A cobra was on the loose, and wild rumours circulated about anyone who even had the remotest connection to snakes.

"You're the killer! You've been trying to learn Parseltongue!" screeched Laisai Delavie on Monday evening, slamming down the aforementioned copy of the _Bled Chronicles_ and pointing dramatically at Laurel Martin.

"Don't be ridiculous; the last snake I tried to talk to looked at me as if I was stupid!" Laurel whined. "If anything, it's Yugi! He has a pet cobra!"

Andrew Yugi Kross, who had been looking rather feminine for a moment, suddenly snapped into masculinity. "I am innocent!" he yelled. "My snake is harmless!"

"That's what they all say!" cried several girls at once.

"Silence!" Dirk got up on the table; they were in the cafeteria, after all. There had been a PruCan versus Franada fight going on, but strangely the flying pieces of Canadian bacon never managed to hit Dirk. "We will all work together to solve this mystery, yeah? That's the best way to go about it. Who's with me?"

Kitty, Megan, Taylor, and a great majority of the students raised their hands. Jennifer noticed that Lucas was harrumphing and trying to get Cain to put his hand down. Michael Arch shook his head.

"Perfect! Now that I have everyone's cooperation, let's figure out our suspect list. I'm afraid that you, Mr. Kross, will be first on the list until we can prove that your cobra is harmless."

"Yeah, yeah," Andrew muttered. "Anyone can talk to Mii anyways; so it's not like only I can control her."

"I propose we also put Mighty Major J on the suspect list," Kitty declared, and all heads turned towards the Z fighter.

"I don't even know who the fuck that Mary bitch is," snapped Mighty Major J.

"Cull your language, sir; your degradation of women has led to your current situation," Dirk replied arrogantly, adjusting his emo-frame glasses. Mighty Major J glared at him but said nothing. "Any other suspicions? No? All right, everyone please give me your alibis. Where were you the night of the murder?"

"Isn't that a bit moot, though, since a snake did her in?" Scylla wondered.

"Perhaps the killer was a shapeshifter!" Nemo exclaimed.

"Isn't Blaise a shapeshifter?" Loki asked, nudging the Lust demon suggestively.

"I haven't changed into a snake since the beginning of time," Blaise sighed. "And Shoste knows I spent the night by her side." Next to him, the Homestuck troll nodded fervently.

"The other suspect is the Writer, then," Ema Skye said, nudging the croissant next to her. The croissant morphed into a young man with black hair and grey eyes.

"It's odd, but I do recall spending my Friday night as a jam doughnut," he snapped.

"You seem to like imitating food. Are you capable of assuming any animal forms?"

"I once turned into a cheetah," the young man remarked thoughtfully. "I haven't tried snake before."

"Benefit of the doubt, I guess," Dirk reasoned. "Any other shapeshifters?"

"Gillyflower Caulfray's a Púca, but Sealand thought she meant 'Pooky' and turned her into a teddy bear," the Writer said, patting the teddy bear next to him. The teddy bear glowered.

"My kind are usually benevolent, anyways," she muttered. "And if I could shapeshift, I wouldn't turn into a snake."

"The Púca usually turns into a horse, a rabbit, a goat, a goblin, or a dog," added Eva Danielson.

"But don't you have some measure of control over animals?"

"Who'd take orders from a teddy bear?"

Dirk sighed. "Touché. So none of the shapeshifters are on the list, then. Back to the alibis, then!"

As the Dirk-led student investigation continued, Jennifer got up and walked over to Lucas's table. That was something she'd never thought she'd do, but apparently Lucas, like her, didn't buy Dirk's actions or innocence at all.

"You don't believe him, do you?" she asked the Angel, who shook his head.

"No. There's something evil about him," Lucas replied as Karen DuLay and Alice Wang appeared at the table as well. "Oh, it's you again, Alice."

"I think we should put a truce to our doctrinal debates," whispered Alice, "to do something about _him_." She pointed to Dirk.

"Pointing's rude," Michael Arch drawled.

"Well, I'm sorry," sniffed Alice. "I still think Lucas is going the wrong way about delivering Christianity, and he's kinda put himself as the bad guy with all of his snarling –"

"I do not _snarl_!"

"But you remind me of the radical Bible-thumping Republican presidential hopefuls," Alice remarked, grinning. "I'm sure you'd have more credibility if you didn't go about shoving religion down peoples' throats."

"It's what we've been trying to tell him," Michael sighed, patting his brother's back.

"I would be more inclined to listen to your critiques if other people were willing to listen to what I have to say," Lucas retorted.

Karen shook her head. "That's not the way to go about it, Lucas."

"Yes, several Mary Sue writers have that same mentality. They shun constructive criticism and continue with their stories, no matter how bad that story may be. If you're going to have an iota of credibility with other people, you've got to be willing to listen to them."

Lucas sighed. "I want to do something right for once," he hissed. "Look at him, that… that pretentious, good-for-nothing –"

"Shh, we believe you," Karen sighed, patting his hand. "We'll just have to make sure everyone else believes you, too."

Jennifer coughed. "First rule about making everyone else at this school believe you – don't attack their beliefs."

Lucas blinked. "But they'd be walking down to Hell if they –"

"Have you ever considered what it takes to get into Hell or Heaven?" Karen wondered thoughtfully as she took out a box of cookies and handed them to everyone at the table. "I mean, according to some people Gandhi should be in Hell just for being a nonbeliever, despite all that he's done."

"What!" Lucas looked affronted. "Gandhi, in the same place as Rodrigo Borgia and Adolf Hitler? No!"

"My point exactly." Karen sighed. "I don't think other people should be attacked and accused of Devil-worship just because they were born to a different family with different values."

"It's really a matter of choice, and God determines where people go in the end," Alice agreed, taking a cookie. "But you're right, these cookies are heavenly."

Karen turned pink. Jennifer hid a smile behind her cookie.

"You know, my friends had this one joke," Jennifer said after a moment. She was the least religious person at the table, but the fact that Lucas wasn't calling her out on it yet was enough to make her stay. "Your time in school is your life. When you take the SAT or those A-Levels, you die. The College Admissions boards are God, and they decide whether you get into a good college or a bad college."

"Senior Year is Purgatory!" cackled Karen. "Ooh and buying your way into a good university is like buying an indulgence!"

Even Lucas snickered at that.

* * *

Like a flower growing through a crack in concrete, the Royal Wedding fervour snaked its way into IAHF despite the serious events taking place.

"This has gone too far," Mr. Allen declared as he stormed into the dining room and took a seat, waving around a box of condoms. "Royal Wedding condoms, honestly?"

"You haven't seen the boxers with Prince William's face all over them, I guess," Gilbert snickered, taking one of the condoms and reading the wrapper. "Royal Protection: Lie Back and Think of England!"

Arthur turned bright red and tried to slink under the table.

"I mean, the Wedgewood commemorative plates were pretty and the official brochures and programmes were pretty, but condoms with tacky slogans?" Mr. Allen shook his head.

"That wasn't authorised, I'll have you know," a distinctively Arthur-shaped jacket bulge snapped. Alfred snickered.

"Cheer up, old man; it'll all be over next Friday."

"_Next Friday_!" screeched all of the Arthur clones.

"Everything must be perfect!" hissed MI6 Arthur.

"And completely safe!" chipped in Policeman Arthur.

"I better check the cameras!" Britannia Angel added.

"The dress code requires hats for the ladies, Rose, remember that! And you Commonwealth Nations better dig up your suits, or there'll be Hell!"

"Blimey, Artie, so panicky," Australia sighed. New Zealand was patting New Zeland, still not quite sure whether to wear a suit or a dress.

"EVERYONE WILL BE LOOKING AT ME!" Normal Arthur cried, surfacing from his hiding spot and clutching his head.

"And at Prince William's bald spot," snickered Francis.

"SHUT UP, YOU FROG!"

Mr. Allen clutched his temples. "Someone _please_ escort Arthur and his hyperventilating clones to another room so that I can avoid a HEADACHE!" he screeched. Everyone at the table dropped their utensils in shock. Feliciano splattered carbonara sauce all over himself.

"He's starting to crack," Workbitch said evenly, patting Mr. Allen's arm awkwardly.

"I AM NOT CRACKING!" the Course Coordinator screamed that in both his voice and Mr. Hugh's voice, before standing up and hurling a fork at the opposite wall.

"Come on, let's get you to your room, sir," Workbitch muttered, nudging Mr. Allen out of his chair. At the other end of the table, the Headmaster's chair sat empty, as usual. He never ate with them.

"I think it's just Mary's death," Howard said, getting up. "I'm going to check on him."

"No, I'm sure it's more deeply rooted than that," Dr. Froyd said as Nurse Florance wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"You mean, that multiple personality thing is to blame?" Thailand asked.

"I'm pretty sure that's the case," Belgium sighed. "I thought you were doing psychoanalysis with him, though."

"He's refusing to cooperate, and it's no use curing a patient who doesn't want to be cured," Dr. Froyd replied simply. "I think it would be a lot less hassle to physically separate the two personalities."

Meanwhile, Howard had rushed into Mr. Allen's room just in time to catch Workbitch leaving. "Is he all right, Work?" he asked his grandson, who shrugged.

"I can only hope that he will be fine," Workbitch replied, briskly walking away. Howard peered into Mr. Allen's room to see the other man, sitting in a chair looking out at the window.

"How are you?" the spy asked as he entered the room, closing the door behind him. The Course Coordinator looked at him oddly. "You're fine, right?"

"Fine," repeated Mr. Allen.

"I'm sorry about Mary," Howard continued, stepping forward. "She was a friend of mine, too."

Mr. Allen clutched his head. "Who – oh, right." He looked up, and Howard could somehow tell that Mr. Hugh was there again. "You cared for her better than I could have, in the short time that you two knew each other," he said after a moment. "I know I shouldn't be getting so hung over her death when she could just be resurrected again… but…" he trailed off. "It's not as cut and dried as that anymore."

"_Could_ she be resurrected?" Howard asked.

"Now, that should readily be 'yes', shouldn't it? But the Bled-spotted plant that facilitates resurrection has been destroyed. Nurse Florance and Wizard Arthur are hoping to repair the damage, but as of now we are powerless in that aspect. Everyone who dies will stay dead for the time being." Mr. Hugh's expression was grave. "This severe amount of sabotage… it can only mean that a spy is on the loose." He looked meaningfully at Howard.

"But I would never have done this!" Howard exclaimed.

"Did you love her?" Mr. Hugh demanded. Howard blinked, astounded by the rapid change in topic.

"I don't feel as if this is an appropriate topic –"

"It's just a question, so answer it. _Did you love her_?"

Howard's shoulders sagged. "Yes, I did," he admitted. "I loved your wife, but _by my honour_, I _swear_ I did not do anything –"

"That will be all," Mr. Hugh replied. "If you loved her, truly loved her, then I do not think you would have had the guts to kill her." He paused, his expression suddenly sombre once more. "But the question of the woman_ I_ love is still…" he paused. "She could _not _have done it. It's impossible."

"What's impossible?" breathed Howard.

"It's still innocent until proven guilty, but I am starting to suspect Nurse Takara once more."

* * *

"Meet Ur," Ludwig said at the Cold War Basketball Court on Tuesday morning.

The students goggled at what seemed to be a walking ziggurat.

"Ur is not a Hetalia Nation, but it has popped up so often in _your_ stories that it might as well be. _You're_ probably not aware of it, but 'ur' is not an acceptable substitute for 'your' and 'you're' in literature." Ludwig glared at them, while Feliciano and Kiku curiously peered at Ur the Walking Ziggurat.

"As you may not know," continued Ludwig in a voice befitting Arthur at his most sarcastic, "Ur was an important city-state in ancient Sumer, which is in modern-day Iraq. It has been mentioned in religious texts like the Bible and the Qur'an as a place important to Abram – or Ibrahim, according to the Qur'an. The most important structure at Ur was the Great Ziggurat of Ur, whose name in Sumerian is E-temen-nigur(u). That translates to 'house whose foundation creates terror', and Ur here will definitely _create terror_ if you improperly put him into your stories ever again."

The students trembled, staring warily at the walking ziggurat. Feliciano was trying to feed it pasta.

"Back to business! Fifty jumping jacks, while reciting your definite articles!"

After GrammarBootCamp, the students collapsed into their seats and began eating their buttered wienerbrød and their skæreost without comment.

"We've got Danish open sandwiches to look forward to for lunch," Lucas said cheerily as he defended his plate from Cain, who kept trying to sneak some cheese off his plate. "Thou shalt not steal, Cain."

"I'm not stealing; I'm borrowing."

"And you won't give it back afterwards, so it's still stealing," Lucas admonished.

There came a commotion at the door. The Angels looked up from their breakfast to see Megan and Dirk walk in, followed by Kitty, Anita, and Carolina. They were frog-marching Mighty Major J into the room; the Z fighter seemed to be fluently cursing. Susanna clapped her hands to her ears.

"We have apprehended the murderer!" Dirk called, and most students cheered. Lucas groaned.

"Oh, not this again," he grumbled.

"Yes, the killer is everyone's 'favourite' bed intruder, Mighty Major J!" Kitty screamed, as everyone cheered. Well, most people cheered.

"I didn't fucking kill her!" the Z fighter snapped. "If anything, it's him!" he jutted his chin out towards Dirk. "Dirk's the killer!"

"Impossible!" scoffed Megan, snaking an arm around her brother. "He's my brother!"

"He's a Gary Stu!" Mighty Major J hollered, and the room went silent. "I passed information about IAHF to Dirk's accomplice, that Mary Sue bitch Luciya Emi von Kyuute. She told him how to get into IAHF, how to play his way into the affections of the students, and how to –"

"Shut up!" Dirk scoffed. "Only a murderer would come up with such outlandish excuses like that!" Nearly everyone took up that accusation. It was natural to hurl abuse at the Z fighter; he had attacked one of their own, hadn't he?

Jennifer watched the mayhem, cursing herself for actually feeling pity for the Z fighter. What was this? He had assaulted her, but now he was being framed. She knew he wasn't lying this time around, since she had seen him go off with Luciya.

Sometimes it was hard to decide whose side she was on. Jennifer looked down at her bread, hiding her face in her hands.

"Hey, you!" Mighty Major J was calling to her. Jennifer instinctively cringed. "Miss Chang! Please! I'm fucking innocent!"

Jennifer looked up at him, tears already running down her face. "There's nothing I can do for you," she replied as haughtily as she could, as the mob dragged him out the door to turn him in.

Damn it, rape didn't equal love. She knew that perfectly well; she hated him for assaulting her like that. She hated him for being a douchebag.

But now, she couldn't help but pity him.

Damn it all.


	63. Three Murders, One Snake

**Part XIII**

Faye Markus was absolutely disgusted with IAHF. Considering that she had just emerged from the Mochi Nudist Beach as a scarred witness to several enthusiastic 'parties' there, that would probably be believable for once.

She wandered through the darkened tunnels, guided only by a torch held by Austrua. Part of her wanted to escape the place, but Francy the Fancy Mochi was bringing up the rear. Francy was one of those strange Mochis; he really liked stealing fangirls' clothing and parading about in them. Several girls had filed complaints after chasing the Mochi down the hall for their bras.

"Meep!" screeched Austrua, turning around to glare at Faye. Faye glared back and shuffled along.

"Meep meep?" Francy asked from behind. Faye hated how they wouldn't speak American.

"Meep meep meep, meep," Austrua replied.

"Speak a language I can understand, damn it!" Faye snapped. Austrua regarded her coolly.

"Meep meepity meep," Francy sighed. "Meepmeep."

"MEEP?" Austrua seemed unamused about something. "Meepmeep? Meep meep meepity meep!"

Whatever 'meepmeep' was, Mochis didn't seem to like it much. Faye wondered if she could get her hands on some.

The Mochis continued to herd her along, looking twice as paranoid as usual. Faye wondered if she was hallucinating, or if she could actually hear something slithering behind them in the darkness.

"What's 'meepmeep'?" she asked Austrua, but the Austrian Mochi didn't respond. "Come on, tell me!"

"Merp," Francy replied. Faye and Austrua turned around; Austrua shined a light behind them.

When Faye saw what had been following them, she screamed.

* * *

"You see?" Andrew Yugi Kross crowed as his cobra Mii wound her happy way around his shoulders. "One hundred percent harmless."

"I like hula sssskirtssss," Mii said randomly.

"Very funny," Dirk coughed, taking out his suspect list and crossing several names off them. "I don't think any of us would have committed this murder, to be truthful, since she did die in the Staff Section and none of us know who she really was, other than the assistant librarian, really… there's…" he paused, and looked over at Jennifer. "What were you doing on the night of the murder?"

"I was with Merka and Kriss in their room on Friday evening before moving back up to my room – which I share with your sister, by the way."

"I see," Dirk harrumphed. "Anyways –" He didn't finish, because Kitty came rushing into the room, her hair in disarray and her expression flustered. "Kitty! What's wrong?" The Enrique Iglesias-lookalike ran over to the gossip queen, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he repeated.

"Another murder!" Kitty exclaimed, eyes wide. "Faye Markus and two Mochis were killed last night!"

"Back to square one," Lucas sighed as everyone started talking again. "It can't be Mighty Major J now, since he's been detained at the Golag and therefore was in no position to sic a snake on anyone – and he wouldn't kill Faye, anyways, since he likes her."

Karen DuLay frowned. "We have to prove to the Staff that Dirk's behind this, or else they'll believe him, too. But what can we say?"

"We point out that he's a Gary Stu, obviously," Jennifer snapped, taking out a list. "I don't know about you, but I'd bet my last box of tea that the Official Fanfiction University of Kuroshitsuji doesn't exist."

"Doesn't exist _yet_," amended Alice Wang. "Judging by Sebastian's good looks, the Mary Sues are probably itching to get him."

"Their primary concern is the prevalence of Ciel/Sebastian anyways," Jennifer pointed out. "But that's not our problem. Anyways, isn't there a character in Kuroshitsuji who controls snakes?"

Pause. "Snake!" hissed Karen DuLay. "The guy who's part snake, part human!"

"Exactly! Wouldn't he have a cobra somewhere in his posse? And if not, couldn't Dirk have somehow hijacked those snake charming skills or something? He_ is_ a Gary Stu, after all." Jennifer nodded.

"You know," Cain Harren said suddenly, "when people think of snake charmers, they often think of some old man taming a _cobra_."

"And if Dirk is really Megan's brother… Megan's Indian, you know," Jennifer pointed out.

"But he could just be_ saying_ that he is!" Alice exclaimed.

"It still could be a clue," Jennifer replied. "Considering that the snake he used comes from India."

"We have to have more evidence than this, though," Lucas muttered. "We'll have to figure out where he sleeps. I don't think he resides in the dorms, since he's never…"

They looked at each other darkly. "After Evolution of War class, then," Jennifer said, "we'll meet you outside the library. Bring an umbrella; we might have to go outside."

Outside, a storm was slowly gathering.

* * *

"Francis, there's no way Arthur could have killed her," Workbitch sighed, handing the Frenchman a thick stack of papers. "This is his alibi, and here's the statement saying that he everything said in the testimony is true."

"He could be lying," sniffed Francis, rifling through the papers. "I don't believe that he was talking to a Kappa in the hot tub that night."

"Well, it'd take a lot of guts and bullshit to come up with a novel-length false testimony," Workbitch pointed out. "And his body language clearly said he was telling the truth, unless you're saying that Arthur is as smooth a liar as _you_ are."

"He wasn't flustered?" Francis echoed.

"He maintained eye contact," Workbitch replied evenly. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah, about suspicions regarding Feliciano…"

"Ludwig can vouch for him; he, Feliciano, and Kiku were watching anime in Kiku's room last Friday," Workbitch said immediately. "Besides, I do not believe Feliciano is cunning enough to be able to control a cobra, and he has no motive for the crime. Neither does Arthur."

"How would you know?" Francis scoffed.

"Mary Crawford was an Italian-born American who married a Briton," replied Workbitch. "The last thing any Nation wants is for his or her citizens to be killed. Isn't that so, _France_?"

Francis sighed. "All right, je comprends," he growled. "What about the murders of that blonde student and her Mochi guards?"

"It was conducted in the exact same manner – snakebite," answered Workbitch, waving the autopsy at him.

Mr. Allen strode into the room, shooing Francis away as he did so. "We need to talk," he snapped at Workbitch, drawing up a seat. "You've run background checks on everyone at this school, right?"

"I may be one hell of a secretary, but even I cannot do that," Workbitch deadpanned. "Peter and I have worked through all of the students' records, and we are just beginning with the Staff."

"The students will do for now, I guess." Mr. Allen peered over at the suspects list. "Andrew Yugi Kross's snake is harmless; Endland just confirmed that today. Mighty Major J was turned in as the murderer a few days ago, but it's rather obvious that he's innocent now; he was nowhere near Faye and the Turnkey reports that there were no snakes in the Golag prior to Faye's murder. He will not be moved out, though; he is still wanted for assault and attempted rape."

"We _will_ try him later, right?" Workbitch asked, his expression tense.

"Yes, we will," Mr. Allen replied vaguely. "And if his prison babble is of any indication, we may have to add treason to the charges."

"Babble?" echoed Workbitch.

"He's been saying something about how he leaked secrets to a Mary Sue," Mr. Allen said gravely.

"Right. And the Mary Sue is the killer?"

"Perhaps," Mr. Allen sighed. "Next, we must interrogate Takara."

"How could she have committed the murder; she is at PPC Headquarters!" Workbitch frowned. "Don't jump to conclusions!"

"I am not! But motives-wise, she is the only one who has any motive to kill Mary!" Mr. Allen shook his head. "As for Faye and the Mochis… shit, I was supposed to inspect Auchwits that afternoon. I forgot!"

Workbitch gasped. "Does that mean… you only escaped because of your absentmindedness?"

"Are you calling me absentminded?"

Workbitch checked himself. "I'm sorry, sir, but it seems like you missed death by a hair because you forgot that you were supposed to inspect Auchwits that afternoon. And the night Mary was killed…"

Mr. Allen paused. "Wait a minute, what was she wearing when we discovered her?"

Workbitch frowned. "How am I supposed to know? I don't have a photographic memory!"

"We've got to check. What if the murderer's targeting me?"

"Don't be so self-centred," sniffed Workbitch as the two men left the office. "But it's entirely possible. You're the Course Coordinator, after all."

They arrived at the Hospital Wing just as the Nurses arrived followed by Alfred and Ivan carrying a giant stretcher. Something heavy lay in the stretcher.

"Don't tell me Ameriwhale was the next victim," Mr. Allen deadpanned.

"No, it's not," Ivan said. "It's another student."

Mr. Allen moved forward and lifted the sheet curiously. He nearly retched at the grosteque bite marks around the victim's neck.

"It's that Mighty Major J bloke," he said to Workbitch as the stretcher passed by. "No doubt silenced by the killer. That means the prison babble meant something after all."

Workbitch nodded, saying nothing.

* * *

The first semester students filed uneasily into the dungeon-like classroom for their 'Evolution of War' class. McCarthy Alfred had installed cameras everywhere; people hardly dared to breathe for fear of being accused of something, anything. After all, Gregory Bob Walton had attempted to pick his nose last week and was accused of being a Communist sympathiser. McCarthy Alfred was either insane or in a love affair with bullshit. Maybe it was both.

"We will be talking about genocide today," Kuro Kiku announced as he walked into the room with his black military uniform; everyone watched him warily. "First off, let's list some infamous genocides that have happened in history."

"The Holocaust," everyone said immediately.

"The persecution of Christians in pre-Constantine Ancient Rome," Karen DuLay added.

"That wasn't really a systematic…" Karin Guarez muttered.

"Emperor Nero blamed the Great Fire of Rome on them so that everyone would throw them to the lions, so it's fair game," Karen retorted.

"The persecution of the Highlanders after the Battle of Culloden," Franklin interjected, before Karin and Karen started debating.

"THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE THAT TURKEY KEEPS ON DENYING," Loki called.

Jennifer bit her lip. "The Rwandan Genocide in the 1990s," she added.

"The apartheid in South Africa," Rachael Wilkinson said. "Well, it's not strictly genocide, but it's still a crime against humanity."

"The Bosnian Genocide," William Ofritas chipped in.

"The Darfur Genocide," added Tori Troutman sadly.

"You guys are all forgetting the Cambodian Genocide!" snapped Anita Khok. She paused. "I didn't mean to be so angry," she added in a smaller voice."

"All right, that seems to be a big enough list," Kuro Kiku sighed.

"Ooh, we forgot the Rape of Nanking –"

"That is _quite_ enough." Kuro Kiku repeated. "What is the definition of genocide? Someone give me a good definition."

"Systematic ethnic cleansing," Kriss called out.

"What is ethnic cleansing, then?" Kuro Kiku asked innocently.

Carolina Brown coughed. "It's the deliberate destruction of an ethnic, racial, religious, or national group," she stated. "It's also systematic and usually state-sponsored."

"How many people does it take?" Kuro Kiku asked.

"The lines are blurry there, I guess," Carolina admitted. "But the United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide defines it as –"

"Here it is," McCarthy Alfred called, pulling up the information on the projector. "Genocide is 'any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group', and it lists the following actions: killing members of the group, harming them physically or mentally, degrading their condition of life, preventing births within the group, and forcibly transferring children from that group to another."

"Genocide is a serious violation of human rights," agreed Kuro Kiku in a monotone, as if he resented telling them that. "There are usually eight stages in a genocide – take out paper; we will quiz you on this."

"Our nicer counterparts want to make sure that you know this so you can prevent genocides," added McCarthy Alfred.

Kuro Kiku turned to the blackboard, starting to scrawl with the chalk. It didn't help that he had serial killer handwriting and made the chalk squeak more times than what was necessary. The students cringed as they jotted down the stages.

"The first stage is classification," Kuro Kiku deadpanned as he wrote. "People are classified into 'us' and 'them'. Give us some examples of 'us' and 'them' groups."

"Jews versus German 'Aryans'," Megan said immediately. "Even though Hitler obviously didn't know that 'Aryan' comes from Sanskrit 'Arya', which means 'noble' – that means that it should be used to describe the Hindu/Indian people, not those of the so-called 'Nordic' race."

Everyone stared at Megan as if she had suddenly turned into Lakshmi. "I love it when everyone expects me to be stupid just because I'm the school slut," the alien snickered.

Lucia coughed. "Right… um… the Hutus and the Tutsis in Rwanda," she answered.

"Serbians versus Bosnians and the other ethnic groups in Yugoslavia," William Ofritas contributed.

"Ottoman Turks versus Armenians," Loki added.

"Next step, then," Kuro Kiku said. "The next stage is symbolisation, where the 'them' group will be forced to carry certain symbols."

"Like the yellow Star of David!" exclaimed Jodie Smith.

"Exactly. Then comes dehumanisation, where the 'us' group tries to turn the 'them' group into something sub-human. They are usually associated then with animals, pests, diseases, and anything else with a negative connotation."

"Wow, sounds like the use of the term 'Mudblood' in _Harry Potter_," Laurel Martin breathed.

"Didn't you know Voldemort committed genocide against Muggles and Muggle-borns?" Karin Guarez demanded.

"WHAT? I didn't know that!" Megan gasped. "That means… whoa! The entire series had a Holocaust parallel, complete with a hypocritical leader!"

"Very perceptive, we are," Karin sighed.

"Back to Earth!" snapped Kuro Kiku. "The next step is organisation, where certain militias or army units began training and arming. Then the hate group starts broadcasting propaganda that is intended to polarise everyone against the 'them' group. That is the next step, polarisation."

"After that is preparation," continued McCarthy Alfred, "where the victims are identified and separated."

"Finally, the fun part: extermination," Kuro Kiku finished.

"You have a sick sense of humour, then," sniffed Azure.

"Kiku has told me that occasionally," Kuro Kiku replied. "And after the fun's done, the last stage is to deny that the genocide ever happened, despite overwhelming evidence that it did."

"In a way," Sabrina the Part-Unicorn noted suddenly, raising her hand, "could you define the PPC's assassinations of Mary Sues as a form of genocide against them?"

McCarthy Alfred and Kuro Kiku looked at each other. "That's where the lines get blurry, doesn't it?" McCarthy Alfred asked. "The main reason why the Turkish government denies the Armenian Genocide is because they maintain that it was a civil war. The Armenians apparently fought back, but it's hard to say what exactly happened there. What is happening right now in many fandoms may be considered a civil war between badfic and the canon, but it's tasteless to label things that happen online with serious terms like genocide."

"Although that puts the term 'Grammar Nazi' in a different light, doesn't it?" Kitty asked.

Kuro Kiku pursed his lips. "True, but the killing of bad original characters shouldn't be equated with the killing of various ethnic groups in the real world. It's the same thing with flame wars – don't wish rape or any other forms of trauma on people who insult you in a flame war."

"That's just stupid," agreed McCarthy Alfred. "Avoid a virtual genocide; don't create the bad original character in the first place."

* * *

"Takara, we need to talk," Mr. Hugh announced as he entered the room with Nurse Suzine's report. "You know that the Mary Sues have infiltrated IAHF, correct?"

"Yes, you told me last time," Takara replied, looking up from her book.

"What are you reading?" Mr. Hugh wondered, peering over at the cover.

"_The Speckled Band_, by Arthur Conan Doyle." Takara marked her place and closed the book. "What do we need to talk about?"

"Mary was killed," Mr. Hugh said bluntly. Takara gasped.

"W-who'd kill her?" she asked, clapping a hand to her mouth.

"That's what I'd like to know. What were you doing the night of 15 April?"

"I was here, in the Medical Ward," Takara replied. "I just finished watching a No-Drool Video where Rebecca Black and Barney sang that godawful song about Friday, and I wasn't in the mood to think so I went to bed. What?"

"Can you get someone to back you up on that alibi?" Mr. Hugh wondered. "I'm afraid to say we're already suspecting you of killing Mary, but I wanted to make sure you're innocent."

"That's nice of you, and you can ask Nurse Suzine to confirm my alibi," Takara sighed, clutching at her abdomen. "What killed her, exactly?"

"An Indian cobra," Mr. Hugh muttered. "It also killed two students and two Mochis."

"Oh Glaurung," hissed Takara. "You've got to let me go back. Think of all the resurrections!"

"It's dangerous! If you wind up being the snake's next victim –" Mr. Hugh shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we're not letting you out early. Emma could be born any day now."

Takara closed her eyes, leaning against the pillows heavily. "I hate not doing anything," she complained after a moment.

"Patience is a virtue," Mr. Hugh said, smiling slightly. "That's all I needed to say, Takara. I'll be going now…"

"I love you," Takara mumbled, as he kissed her hand.

"Love you, too," Mr. Hugh replied, as Nurse Suzine returned to work the Remote Activator for him.

When Mr. Hugh stepped back into the Staff Section, the first thing he noticed was the silence. The school was eerily silent for a Wednesday night. Even Gilbird and Pierre weren't singing.

Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Mr. Hugh hated the foreboding atmosphere that stifled him as he walked through the dark, silent hallways. He frowned; had the snake killed everybody?

And then he heard the cry.

* * *

Jennifer raced through the hallways, her vision blurred by tears. No, it couldn't be! She refused to believe the rumours.

"Jennifer, slow down!" called Karen, Alice, and Lucas from behind. Jennifer feigned deafness as she continued to run; the Hospital Wing was almost within sight now…

They had not found Dirk's lair yet, but Jennifer and Karen intended on bribing the information out of Kitty. They had been prepared to do so, but then Kitty showed up with bad news.

No, not bad news. _Horrible_ news. News that made Jennifer's world fall out from under her feet. That was why she was running now, heart pounding and palms sweating.

In the Hospital Wing, Mr. Hugh, Shinbun, Howard, Arthur, Alfred, and Ludwig were gathered around a bed. Nurse Florance tried to shoo Jennifer away – only six visitors per patient, after all – but the fangirl was insistent.

"No! I need to see! Let me!" she cried, not even acknowledging Arthur's presence. Karen, when she arrived, tried to glomp Ludwig but was quickly tackled by Lucas. Alice gritted her teeth at the sight of Alfred and promptly left the infirmary as well. Jennifer fought against Nurse Florance, desperate to see the occupant of that bed.

"Miss Chang?" Arthur had seen her. His voice was unnaturally gentle. "I'm so very sorry for your loss."

That sentence sent Jennifer's heart plummeting. "No," she gasped as Alfred, Arthur, and Ludwig moved to let her see the bed. Workbitch laid there, his eyes glassy. As Jennifer advanced towards the bed, she saw two puncture marks on his neck, just like the other corpses.

"Why… why is he all bloodied and beat up?" she asked weakly, collapsing right before the bed as if in prayer. She could hear Lucas praying at the hospital door, with Karen following. "Did he struggle against his attacker?"

"He managed to grab this before he was overpowered," Alfred said, handing her a pair of emo-frame glasses.

Jennifer stared listlessly at the glasses before pocketing them. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she looked at Workbitch's body. So her worst fears had come true. He had known too much.

"If only I could…" she sobbed into his chest. She couldn't say the rest of that sentence out loud.

She didn't dare to.


	64. Lucas, Femme Fatale Extraordinaire

**Notes: **I think I've found the one message I want everyone to get from this story (which is why I'm saying it here instead of leaving you all to debate over it): rape doesn't equal love. Even if I haven't increased your appreciation for a character/pairing you've never really liked before, or if you slept through the history/sports/art/music/character development lesson sections of the tale, the one thing I want to get across to other fanfiction writers is to handle issues like sexual abuse and rape with maturity and respect. Maybe I've just read one too many books on the horrific things done to women in Rwanda and Cambodia (and a respected fanfiction author I know has been a victim of sexual violence), but if you're going to go ahead and call this my Author Tract, call it an Author Tract against trivialising rape in fanfiction.  
That being said, on with the story.

* * *

**Part XIV**

Jennifer hated being sentimental, but living without Workbitch was like living with a hole in her chest – nigh impossible and painful like heck.

"Wow, it must suck to be you," Merka remarked at breakfast on Thursday, causing Jennifer to fling a croissant at her.

"Shut up," the other Anglophile snapped. "It's not like you've lost Kriss – _yet_."

"The sad part is that cobra venom has an antidote," Kriss noted. "We're just finding the victims too late."

"Or that snake's venom is particularly potent," Carolina Brown added as she passed by on Dirk's arm. That seemed rather uncharacteristic of her – but the same could be said for Dorothy and Bonnie Bianca Bishop's reactions. They both looked and acted like giggly airheads.

"You guys are not helping my depression," Jennifer groaned as Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy and Mitsuki Horenake started laughing loudly (and rather obnoxiously) at something Lucia Verdas had said.

"Oh my god, do that again!" cackled Mitsuki as Lucia dangled a spoon from her nose and looped a sugar-high arm around Eva Danielson.

The mermaid snickered, but obliged. She then started impersonating Antoine Dodson once more: "Well, obviously we have a cobra at IAHF. He's slitherin' in yo Staff Section, snatchin' yo people up an' tryin' to kill 'em. So y'all better hide yo students, hide yo Staff, and hide yo Mochis too cos he's bitin' eerbody out there."

Most of the hall burst into laughter, but Jennifer hid her face in her hands.

* * *

"The International Criminal Court is a permanent tribunal that prosecutes individuals for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity, and – after 2017 – the crime of aggression."

It was another International Relations class, and Francis had somehow gone from the '-isms' of IR to the International Criminal Court. Strange lesson plans were a mainstay in the IAHF curriculum, after all.

"The International Criminal Court was founded by the Rome Statute, which came into force on 1 July 2002. Its official seat is in the Netherlands. As of now, there are 114 members of the ICC – that means they have signed _and ratified _the Rome Statute. There are 34 countries, including Russia, who have signed but not ratified the Rome Statute, meaning that the ICC has no jurisdiction over them yet. Three of those countries have, quote-unquote, 'unsigned' the Statute. One of them is the United States."

"Why would Alfred not join that court? He wants to be a hero, doesn't he?" Carolina Brown demanded.

"We will talk about that later," Francis replied. "There are 44 other member states of the United Nations who have neither signed nor ratified the Statute. Two of them are China and India, because they are critical of the ICC. The ICC may exercise its jurisdiction only when the existing judicial system in a given state is not able to or is unwilling to investigate or prosecute the crime. As of now, it is investigating situations in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the Central African Republic, Uganda, Darfur, Sudan, the Republic of Kenya, and Libya. It has investigated in Yugoslavia in the past."

"Will the ICC arrest Gaddafi?" asked Tori Troutman.

"As of now, we have no idea. At the rate he's going, the Hague_ will_ call him in," Francis replied, his expression serious. "Let's continue with our discussion about how the United States 'unsigned' the Rome Statue. Can anyone tell me why they would do that?"

"The war in the Middle East," replied Franklin Livingston. "The United States military has committed some serious human rights violations – torture, killing innocent civilians, 'accidental' bombings of civilian targets during air strikes, and other things – in the Middle East, and if they were part of the ICC they would be investigated for that."

"Exactly. So Alfred's former boss 'unsigned' the treaty and passed the American Service-Members' Protection Act. That basically says that if the ICC or any other international criminal courts try to prosecute American government officials and soldiers, then the U.S. has the right to invade the Hague and free those people."

Several students snorted. "That would be so Alfred – bursting in through the roof or driving a tank through the walls of a courthouse in the middle of a trial," giggled one of the America Adorers.

Francis shook his head. "It also forbids any federal, state, and local governments and agencies of the U.S. from aiding the Court and prohibits military aid to countries that are party to the Court, unless they are members of NATO, major non-NATO allies, Taiwan, or have concluded a Bilateral Immunity Agreement with the U.S." He paused. "That being said, I would now like to open the floor to debate. Why should Alfred 'resign' the Rome Statute? Why shouldn't he?"

That opened up a whole new can of worms.

* * *

"Francis gets more and more intelligent and philosophical with each class; it's scaring me," Kitty Smith was saying to Carolina Brown after class as Jennifer and Karen DuLay approached them. Karen was clutching a box of cookies.

"I know, but at least it shows that he doesn't think with his dick _all_ the time," Carolina pointed out. "Oh, hey, Karen and Jennifer."

"What's up?" Jennifer asked in an attempt to be nonchalant. "How's Dirk?"

"Fine. He should be leaving Platonic Love class, but I don't really get why he's there. I mean, he's obviously intelligent enough to take our classes, but he's so modest…" Carolina sighed happily. "And I haven't seen him wear his glasses recently, but he looks dreamy without them anyways. Usually, I have such a thing for men in glasses…"

"Definitely not in character," Karen whispered. Jennifer was staring incredulously at Carolina.

"So, I suppose you know where his room is! Unless, you know, he can get past the protective spells that Wizard Arthur put on the girls' dorms…" Jennifer said hesitantly, smiling nervously.

"Oh, yeah, he lives in his own special room since he gets special treatment from the Staff," Kitty replied.

"I don't think the Staff even knows he exists," Jennifer whispered to Karen, who nodded.

"Where could that be?" the Ludwig Luster asked, holding out the cookies. "We wanted to drop these off for him, but they're not poisoned!"

"I've a horrible sense of direction," Carolina admitted. "So I dunno if I can help you…"

"And we swore not to tell a soul," Kitty added. "But his room is seriously big and stuff. He says he keeps his private menagerie in the room adjacent to his bedroom, but he doesn't let us in there. Besides, you'd have to go ask him how to get to his room; he only takes those he likes over there."

Jennifer was certain that the sinking feeling in her chest was dread at having to resort to Plan B. She didn't want to be bait for Plan B – it was the infamous _femme fatale _ploy, after all, and Jennifer was sure that if she ended up playing the _femme fatale_ she would bail at the last possible moment. And who knew what would happen to her then? If you valued your life or your psyche, you never said 'no' to a Gary Stu.

She felt uncomfortable at the mere thought.

* * *

"Plan B, is it?" Lucas sighed at lunch. "Well, I'm certainly not going to be Mata Hari."

"Neither am I." Karen and Alice added immediately. Jennifer stared.

"I can't do it," she muttered.

"Why not? You know how to…" Karen squirmed. "I don't want to give mine up to a Gary Stu…"

"Neither do I," Alice added, blushing.

"But…" Jennifer looked away. "But I don't feel that it's right."

Cain tilted his head to the side. "But Work's dead."

"He could be resurrected any day, and I don't want to do something I couldn't tell him about, greater good or not," Jennifer snapped.

"Wow, I thought your moral compass had been demagnetised," Lucas whistled. Jennifer glared; he held up his hands in defence. "I'm just saying! You're on the other end of the political spectrum from me, after all."

"Just because I'm a tree-hugging, gay-supporting liberal doesn't mean I have no morals," sniffed Jennifer, obviously stung. "Besides, if you're going to send someone who has been…" she broke off before she could say 'assaulted'; she hated the word with a passion now that it had happened to her.

Alice muttered a string of curse words in various Asian languages; Jennifer didn't know what the Cantonese and Malay curses were, but she picked up some nasty Mandarin swears. She hid a grin with her bread.

"Ho snap," Karen muttered. "We kinda forgot about that. Considering the whole murder thing…"

"Yeah," Jennifer deadpanned. "That helps so much."

"We're sorry!" Alice exclaimed. "It got pushed out of everyone's minds, you know! And_ he_'s dead, too, so –"

Jennifer shook her head. "That damn snake got to him before I did," she growled, and Lucas sighed heavily in a 'this girl's cursing problem is most likely incurable' way. "And we can't ask someone like Nick Jenkins to do the job for us, because we don't know if he supports Dirk or not."

"Taking those factors into consideration, then, I suppose I will have to be the… seductor," the Angel ground out, looking about as thrilled as a man who had just been told by God to babysit Gaddafi.

"Yay!" Karen clapped her hands. "You'll be brilliant! Just don't mention that you slept with his sister, and I'm sure we'll do –"

Lucas made a series of spluttering noises that could only be reprinted as "lajkdghkajhlfkjashkjdfhalj". His spluttering only increased as their target, Dirk, strutted past with a suggestive smirk. When he passed the spluttering, resentful Angel, his fingers briefly brushed Lucas's shoulder. Lucas promptly flushed ten different shades of red.

Jennifer dove under the table, overcome with a fit of the giggles. Naughty mental images, oh wicked, _wicked_ mental images!

* * *

"For homework, aru, you are expected to finish the description of the Mary Sue that you have begun in class today. Next time we will exchange 'Sues, aru, and you will be expected to know your Mary Sue classifications and warning signs. Class dismissed, aru."

The students piled out of class. Jennifer and Karen quickly left the room and ran down the hall to meet Lucas and Alice coming out of the Crossovers classroom.

"Can you believe it? We have a two-page essay on Blender Crossovers!" the Angel was complaining. "And that immoral wizard just blabbers on forever…"

"I think I still have my essay," Jennifer replied. She had done her paper on why Harry Potter and Roderich Edelstein were not the same person. "If you want –"

"No, thank you. I do not believe in cheating," Lucas sniffed. "I will write a dissertation on how Heracles is not Jesus reincarnated and see how that thick-browed coot likes it."

"Someone's tried to turn Greece into Jesus?" Karen whistled. "Wow, at least they're not saying France is Jesus."

"Well, I don't know if anyone has seriously done that, but still, it could happen," Lucas replied.

Jennifer snorted. "Reminds me of 'Harry Potter Turns to the Lord' – ooh, I know! There was that one story about a goody two-shoes Christian girl going to Hogwarts. I laughed."

"What's funny about that?" Lucas demanded as the first semester students appeared and they started looking for Dirk. "I mean, she has a perfectly legitimate concern –"

"First off, it was badly executed with poor writing. She was a Mary Sue. And how do you explain Hogwarts celebrating Christmas and Easter? Or how Harry died, came back to life, and in the process protected his friends from certain spells through the power of love?"

"I never bothered reading the books, to be honest," admitted Lucas. "I mean, it was mostly witchcraft and…"

"That's the primary argument? Oh gosh, you're going to _detest_ _Kuroshitsuji_, then. I mean, Harry might be learning magic and everything, but at least he learns about love and loyalty, too. In _Kuroshitsuji_, the demons are portrayed in a positive light, compared to the angels. So you might as well pick up a Potter book, since it's not preaching Satanism. The author's Christian, for crying out loud."

They caught sight of Dirk in front of the cafeteria, sitting there as if he had been there the entire time. "He didn't even _bother_ going to class?" Alice demanded.

"Well, he's not an official student, so I guess he doesn't have to. Doesn't help his track record, though." Lucas sighed and patted Karen DuLay's arm as she took notes on Dirk's class ditching in their 'evidence notebook'. "I'll be going to the lion's den, then. Wish me luck and pray for my salvation. Or something like that."

Jennifer masked her laughter with coughing as the Angel took a deep breath and walked up to the Gary Stu.

* * *

On Friday morning, Lucas had a 'save me' sort of look (and a distinctly pained air about him) as he slunk into the room, over to where Jennifer sat with Kriss, Merka, and several other Anglophiles.

"You all owe me your souls," he growled, handing the fangirl a slip of paper. "He sodomised me. Bloody _sodomised_ me!"

"He… shit; you obviously refused, didn't you? We didn't ask for you to go out and get raped, damn it!"

"Watch your tongue!" Lucas hissed, grabbing her arm and marching her out of the room. Jennifer wrenched her arm away, hating the feeling of someone else touching her. "I agreed to it as well as I could, seeing that the only way to get the confession was to cater to his whims. I feel like a harlot. Still, it's all on record, since Karen pilfered me some of Kitty and Anita's wiretapping devices – but don't think that I'm stealing! It was all for the greater good! Oh, Lord, I have so much atonement to do…"

"Catching a killer is pretty damn good 'atonement'," Jennifer replied, defiantly smirking at his exasperated look. "So what's with the paper?"

"That's how to get to his lair. Photographic evidence needs to be collected about his menagerie, and I can't do everything. Try to get into his lair after class, during dinner or something. He's going to do something today at dinner, and I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to pin the murders on Mr. Allen or something."

So Jennifer found herself pilfering Willow's camera (all for the greater good, mind you) and ditching dinner to go find Dirk's lair. It was apparently located at the heart of the school – in a plothole just outside the library.

To think, all of those times that they had walked past the plothole and not noticed it! Jennifer resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall. Quickly making sure that the camera was charged and had its memory card functioning, the Asian Anglophile snuck into the plothole.

Stepping into a plothole like Dirk's room felt like stepping into an alternate reality. First off, there was a giant television screen that took up almost an entire wall, complete with surround system and state-of-the-art gaming systems attached. Gadgetry lined the walls, from weapons (Jennifer wondered how he managed to fit a thermonuclear bomb into the room, but then remembered that most nukes were not hot pink and it was most likely some strange Mary Sue weapon) to music players (he could probably create a whole museum dedicated to Apple gadgets). The entire array of human technology could have made certain little mermaids to pass out from giddiness and wonder.

And then there was the tacky-looking disco ball above the circular bed. Jennifer had encountered a similar bed in Alfred's room; the American had gone out and bought a hamburger-shaped bed. She madly snapped pictures of the room, looking about her with curiosity and wonder.

There came a hissing noise from the room next door. Jennifer walked over to a doorway (of course there was no door, and the barrier between herself and the menagerie was a force field. How remarkably cliché) and peered inside. She fought down the urge to scream.

A giant Indian cobra sat in the middle of the room. Granted, it wasn't basilisk monstrous, but it was still roughly the size of an anaconda – and that in and of itself was frightening. Coupled with the fact that Jennifer was insanely scared of snakes, especially since all that stood between her and that… _thing_… was a force field.

Damn Gary Stus and their need to compensate with giant Cute Animal Friends. Jennifer took a couple of pictures in rapid succession of the horrendous cobra (that thing's fangs looked like murder). Said horrendous cobra didn't seem to like flash (honestly, who did), because it reared up, raised its hood, and hissed warningly.

Jennifer was vaguely aware that some cobras could spit venom. She wasn't sure if the Indian cobra was one of them, so she tore out of the room as if the cobra had been after her.

That cobra back there had been the culprit. That had been Workbitch's murderer. Jennifer half considered turning around, running back to the plothole, and killing the thing, but in order to harm the snake she would have had to deactivate the force field. And then that monster would probably figure out that she wasn't Dirk and kill her.

Not to mention her ophidiophobia. Oh, yeah, she had cowered in terror reading _Chamber of Secrets_. Jennifer paused in her running to thump her head against the wall. She had been crying too much during this week, but what the hell. More crying shouldn't hurt, right?

* * *

Mr. Allen paced the halls, his brows furrowed in thought.

The seminars 'History of Espionage' and 'Fear the Frying Pan' had been cancelled. In the current atmosphere of uncertainty and paranoia, it had become dangerous for the Staff to go about unarmed. Plus, there was the horrid weather to consider, and Elisabeta had wanted to give her seminar outside.

Even Project Roswell seemed to be in danger, even though the hedges were growing rapidly. Mr. Allen hoped that the Bled-spotted resurrection plant could grow just as fast. They needed to revive the victims of the snake as soon as possible – in fact, they needed to_ catch_ the snake–

But how did the thing get about the school undetected in the first place? Anyone who had ever read _Harry Potter_ suggested the plumbing, and anyone who had ever read _Kuroshitsuji_ suggested ventilation ducts. The students argued about it rather often; they were _that_ close to turning it into a food fight.

Trust fangirls to argue amongst themselves about the pettiest details.

Mr. Allen walked out of the Staff Section. Just a few corridors away from the library, he saw a girl crying. He frowned, approaching her even when he recognised her as Workbitch's… well, _widow_ wasn't quite the term for it, was it now?

"What's wrong?" he asked. As much as he detested the girl for interfering with the Staff by catching his deceased secretary's interests, he couldn't help but sympathise with her. They had both lost someone dear to them, after all.

"Th-th-the snake," Jennifer mumbled. Mr. Allen frowned.

"Another attack?" he asked, and then he noticed that Jennifer had a camera. "May I take a look at the camera?"

She handed it to him; he browsed through the pictures, frowning. His frown deepened as he looked at her rather blurry pictures of the snake (her hand had been rather unsteady from fear, and she was no master photographer). "It… it was terrifying…" Jennifer whispered, looking away.

"Where did you find this?" Mr. Allen asked, helping her up.

"Lucas found it."

"Lucas found it?" echoed Mr. Allen, looking surprised. He turned to one of the Mochis. "Kiko, go fetch Mr. Lucas Arch." He turned to Jennifer. "You two have some explaining to do."


	65. Crouching Diplomat, Hidden Ambadassador

**Notes:** I notice that some of my reviewers seem to have been touched by my note last chapter. I would like to say that I am always available to talk about those things (contact me through email or add me on Facebook, although you might have to identify yourself before we talk), even if I'm not a professional therapist or anything. For anyone else out there who is a victim of sexual abuse, my support goes out to you.  
Another note – this is by no means the climax of the story. We haven't even gotten to the maze yet!

* * *

**Part XV**

"You are certain he's the killer?"

After listening to Jennifer and Lucas explain the lists of evidence and the audio feeds from the microphones that Lucas had managed to plant amid the feathers in his wings, Mr. Allen had then summoned Nurse Florance and the entire story had to be retold. Jennifer thought she heard her voice crack halfway through the second explanation.

"Er, yes," she said to Nurse Florance, who still looked sceptical. "I mean, all of this obviously points to him being a Gary Stu –"

"I see," Nurse Florance said imperiously. "But you haven't linked the snake to the crime. Perhaps we ought to capture the snake and compare the poisons?"

"Seems like a good idea – except for the fact that we're trying to capture a _snake_," Mr. Allen grumbled. "You two may leave. Your evidence stays here with us, though, lest it get destroyed."

As the two students left, Nurse Florance looked at Mr. Allen. "You believe them?"

"They've given us a more solid lead than what we have ourselves," the Course Coordinator muttered. "I want to figure out this Dirk fellow's hit list, though. Why did he kill these people?" he gestured to the photographs of the crime scene.

The first one showed Mary (Mr. Allen's heart wrenched at the sight of her horrified expression), dressed in a bathrobe that seemed to be twice her size. The second one showed Faye and the two Mochis, in the passageway leading to Auchwits that he should have checked that fateful afternoon. The third one showed Mighty Major J slumped on his cot. The Turnkey couldn't do anything to save him, since it was only a sentient key with a mask. The fourth one showed Workbitch lying in Mr. Allen's office, grasping onto a pair glasses even as rigor mortis settled in. He sported several gashes and bites on his face and arms; his suit was torn in several places.

"Whose bathrobe was that?" Nurse Florance asked, pointing to Mary's photograph.

"Mine," Mr. Allen said immediately. He paused, and then looked at the dossier that the students had given him.

* * *

"YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MIND! WHY ARE YOU SUSPECTING MY BROTHER? YOU ARE SUCH A _LOSER_!" Megan, ever the dramawhore, screamed at Jennifer as the other fangirl prepared for bed. "I JUST HEARD FROM KITTY WHO HEARD FROM ANITA WHO HEARD FROM SOMEONE ELSE WHO OVERHEARD THAT YOU AND LUCAS ARE TRYING TO PIN THE MURDERS ON MY BROTHER!"

"I'm right next to you. There's no need to scream," Jennifer deadpanned. Megan was practically foaming at the mouth; she could have made any rabid dog back down, whimpering.

"BUT THAT DOESN'T PROPERLY EXPRESS HOW MAD I AM AT YOU FOR SUSPECTING MY BROTHER!" Megan screamed. "I CAN ONLY PROPERLY EXPRESS MY ANGER IN CAPSLOCK!"

"What?" Jennifer demanded. "Megan, snap out of it! He's not your brother anymore; he's a Gary Stu!"

"HE IS NOT! HE IS MY BROTHER, MY PRECIOUS BROTHER! MY _PRECIOUS_!"

"Megan! Look at what he's doing to everyone else! He's been using Kitty and Carolina, he's been making everyone go out of character, he's… listen to yourself babble! You're furthering his Gary Stu-dom by claiming that he's related to you!"

"BITCH, WE ARE SO NOT TALKING TO EACH OTHER, LIKE EVER AGAIN!" the alien flung a shoe at her. Jennifer ducked. "GET YOUR SHIT OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"No,_ you_ get out of the room. You can just bunk with Charlie, anyways," Jennifer snapped.

"FINE!" Megan huffed, grabbing her toothbrush and storming out of the dorm room. Once she left, Jennifer peered after her, feeling guilty for banishing her friend from their room. Under the Suefluence or not, Megan was still her friend.

"Megan?" she called, but it was already too late. Outside, the storm continued. The other students looked at her suspiciously – obviously if she wasn't supporting Dirk, she must be collaborating with the killer – and Jennifer sighed, slamming the door and leaning heavily against it.

Right when she thought she had patched things between Lucas 'Holier than Thou' Arch and the rest of the school, everyone turns on her for hating their new hero. Even though Workbitch…

For probably the umpteenth time that day, Jennifer cried. Obviously her lachrymal ducts were malfunctioning.

It wasn't as if she was a _crybaby_, after all. To cry was to show weakness. Her parents had told her that ever since she started walking.

No one wanted to be perceived as weak. Jennifer didn't think she was any different.

* * *

Mary had died wearing _his_ bathrobe. Faye died in the tunnel _he_ was supposed to investigate. Mighty Major J had been silenced for his babbling. Workbitch had been killed in _his _office, and was the only victim to have gotten something belonging to his attacker.

Mr. Allen couldn't sleep. He paced the halls with a flashlight and a gun, looking about him warily.

A lot of people wore those types of emo-frame glasses, though. Even the Staff sometimes wore them, whenever they were having hipster moments. After all, you've probably never heard of _Canada_…

But that was beside the point. Whoever the killer was, three-fourths of the time they were targeting him, the Course Coordinator. They also happened to strike in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mary could have been killed for wearing his bathrobe, too, considering that he had used it before lending it to her…

His suspicions were confirmed when he walked back to his office and saw that something (or someone) had trashed it. The contents of his desk were strewn about, and that dossier of evidence was gone.

That was all the evidence Mr. Allen needed.

* * *

"USUK is just too _mainstream_," sniffed Ever Li at breakfast. "Ship FrUK instead."

"Ewwwwwww, FrUK!" whined Allison Frazier. Jennifer sighed and resisted the urge to plant her face in a bowl of cereal.

"Meep, meep," someone said, and Jennifer turned to see Endland holding a piece of paper in his mouth. The British Mochi handed it to her. "Meep meep meep!"

Jennifer sighed and read the paper before standing up and picking up the Mochi as well. She had been 'shunned' from the North American table because she didn't worship Dirk, so she was sitting with Lucas, the other Angels, Karen, and Alice at the Denmark section of the Europe table.

"What is it?" Karen asked.

"A message," Jennifer replied shortly. "It's from Mr. Allen."

"What does it say?" Lucas asked.

"The evidence has been taken, but he believes us now _because_ it was taken. He wants us to report to his office."

When they rushed over to the Course Coordinator's office, they were greeted by Ivan and Nurse Florance. "All right, to business!" the Russian exclaimed, clapping his hands. "We need to capture this snake in the act! Obviously the snake is targeting Mr. Allen, so we can't have him anywhere near his own quarters tonight. I will be taking him to my room."

"Okay, so what now?" Lucas asked, as Alice and Karen pretended to look extremely interested in the pictures on the wall.

"You four will be a main part of the trap," Mr. Allen said as he left the office. "The snake will either strike in my office or my room. Two of you will be in the office; two of you will be in the room. Two people will be selected to be decoys."

Jennifer paled. "Eeep," she whimpered.

"A-A-At least the killer isn't a g-g-giant s-spider," Alice reasoned shakily.

"Karen and Alice, you two don't mind being decoys, right?" Lucas asked. "Considering that Jennifer and I gathered the evidence…"

"N-not at all," Karen mumbled.

"Good!" Ivan grinned disturbingly. "You two will have to dress up in Mr. Allen's clothing later tonight and pretend to be him. The Gary Stu's cobra, if it functions on its sense of smell like other snakes do, will be attracted to Mr. Allen's scent."

"The problem is… what if it gets confused? Mr. Allen can't split himself into two physically," Alice pointed out.

"We're working on that, though," Nurse Florance replied.

"Still. What if the snake doesn't know whether to attack in the office or the bedroom?"

"It may try to go for both," Mr. Allen answered. "Some Staff members and Mochis will be helping you, though, so I should hope that you will make it out without many injuries. Nurse Florance recently got some Zeodary and some snakebite medication, just in case."

The students looked at each other worriedly. Obviously the Staff was putting them out there as guinea pigs between the cobra and them, since they knew next to nothing about catching snakes, much less a gigantic, highly poisonous cobra that had killed four people already.

"Can we just shoot the damn thing?" Jennifer wondered shakily.

"Try not to," Ivan replied. "I should like to take a look at it, da?"

Jennifer bore an 'I am going to die' look about her for the rest of the day.

* * *

Come nightfall, the rest of the Staff had crowded around the doors outside Mr. Allen's bedroom and his office. Arthur looked slightly anxious about the entire ordeal, but obviously he was trying to hide it.

"D'aw, is the_ rosbif _worried about the _fangirls_?" Francis cooed, pinching Arthur's cheeks as they waited outside.

"Shut up! Damn it, France, I am not a fishy!" Arthur slapped Francis's hands away from his cheeks. "I am just a little concerned about them not being able to capture the snake, since if they don't then the snake will attack us! I'm only concerned about myself, not them!"

"_Surrrrrrre_," Francis snorted. "And I'm actually a little pink rabbit who just wants to be loved."

"You are?" Arthur demanded, quirking an eyebrow.

"L'Angleterre, despite being such a sarcastic idiot you really can be obliviously stupid sometimes," Francis sighed, leaning against the wall.

There came a sudden scream from the bedroom. "Someone's having fun," snickered Gilbert.

"You have a strange sense of fun," Arthur remarked, trying to peer through the door.

"Shouldn't we help them, aru?" Yao asked, holding up a gilded sword.

Arthur took the safety off his gun and leaned against the door, just as Alfred, Karen, and Lucas came rushing over from the office. Feliciano, Matthew, and Ludwig followed them.

"The snake's in the bedroom!" Feliciano called.

"That's what she said!" Gilbert replied, causing Ludwig to whack his arm. "Ouch, West! Damn it, since when did you get that many muscles?"

"This isn't the time for saying such things!" the German barked. "Open the door!"

Alfred kicked down the door (amid Arthur's protests) and stormed into the room with his gun. "Don't you dare fire!" Arthur and Francis hollered from behind as they entered the room as well, "unless you want to hurt some more students or something!"

Apparently a couple of days ago, Alfred had 'accidentally' shot two of his fangirls in the leg. They kept the bullets.

"Help, someone!" screamed Alice Wang from the bed. Jennifer was backed up against the wall, white with fear.

"Why aren't you helping?" Alfred yelled at Jennifer as he took aim at the cobra wrapping itself around Alice. "Your friend's gonna die!"

"I have…" Jennifer ran out of the room, bawling. "I have a phobia of snakes!"

"You're bloody useless, then, since you won't face your goddamn fear!" Arthur hollered after her as Alfred fired.

"Shit, who loaded my gun with blanks?" Alfred demanded, flinging down the revolver. Francis handed him a tranquiliser gun. "Stand back!"

He shot; the dart embedded itself into the cobra. Within moments, the thing slumped and Alice wriggled out, crying.

"I got bitten," she gasped, and Francis rushed over.

"Get the first aid kit and the AED," Alfred yelled at Arthur as the other Staff members piled into the room. "Where's Nurse Florance? Yao, you go find her."

Francis looked down at Alice. "Lie down," he advised. "Where did you get bitten?"

But Alice wasn't responding anymore.

* * *

"Miss Wang will make a full recovery within the next day," Nurse Florance reported the next morning, as Jennifer found the fog clearing from her eyes. She had fallen asleep in the Hospital Wing, apparently. Alice lay on a hospital bed, sleeping soundly.

"I'm so sorry, Alice," Jennifer mumbled. "I was such a coward…"

"You had a phobia of snakes. We shouldn't have made you stand guard." Lucas was sitting at her other side, with Karen DuLay sleeping on his shoulder. The Angel didn't seem to mind. "At least she's safe."

"But we can't exactly say 'no harm done' to this," Jennifer sighed. "And you know what? I thought you were a bastard when I first met you, since you were so conservative and narrow-minded. But now?" she shrugged. "I guess you're not too bad."

"The feelings are mutual," Lucas replied calmly, patting Karen's head.

Jennifer snickered. "So, you and Karen?"

"What?" Lucas flushed bright pink. "No!"

"Tsundere Angels are the best." Jennifer grinned, but her smile faded slightly as she looked over at the screened-off section of the infirmary. "At least we managed to save one person from the snake," she said after a moment.

"Yes, and you just need to face your fear," Lucas replied sagely. "Break the phobia."

Jennifer felt as if someone had poured ice water down her back. "L-L-Let's not think about that," she muttered.

There suddenly came a crash and a scream, shattering the Sunday morning air perfectly. Lucas had been quietly muttering Bible verses to himself; he looked up indignantly.

"I was observing the Sabbath! What's going on?" he demanded. Jennifer got up.

"I'm going to see who's interrupting your Holy Time," she remarked snidely. "Keep watch." With that, she strode out of the Hospital Wing. She only had to walk a few paces before she saw the source of the disturbance.

Her classmates were stampeding, but they weren't stampeding one person. There was another group at the end of the hall that looked… exactly like the stampeders.

Jennifer rubbed her eyes. "Who's been messing with my reality again?" she demanded. No one answered.

"YOU TURNED ME INTO AN IPAD, DIRK!" Kitty screeched.

"No! You mustn't harm him!" Kitty's voice echoed.

Jennifer pinched herself several times. This was too surreal, even for IAHF.

A fight broke out in the middle of the corridor, as one group of students hurled themselves at their doubles and basically pummelled the stuffing out of them. Jennifer rushed forward, yelling something that got lost in the din.

"It's no use! They can't hear you," someone snapped, and Jennifer looked to the side to see two black-clad PPC Agents. One had pointed ears and grey eyes. The other had a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair.

"What… what's going on?" Jennifer demanded weakly, pointing to the brawl.

"We just freed the original students," Ribbons said.

"What?" Jennifer echoed, feeling very stupid. "There were doubles?"

"A majority of the students had been surreptitiously replaced with Character Replacements by agents from Happily Ever After Ltd., the Mary Sue Factory managed by my clone," Pointy-Ears replied. "Somehow you and the others in the Hospital Wing avoided being replaced."

"Well, there was also the Gary Stu's sister. She was just drugged with Aura of Smooth," Ribbons added.

"Megan!" Jennifer gasped, her eyes widening. "Where is she?"

Her question was quickly answered when Kriss, Merka, and Andrew Ho emerged from the brawl with a snarling Megan. Franklin and Taylor had spray bottles and matching unamused expressions.

"I WOULD CATCH A GRENADE FOR MY BROTHER, DAMN IT! LET ME GO TO HIM!" Megan shrieked, flailing and thrashing as Andrew and Merka tried to restrain her. "LEMME GO!"

"Spray her with the antidote already!" Merka hissed, holding Megan in a headlock.

"He turned me into a Flip camcorder! A flippin' _Flip camcorder_!" Celeste's voice echoed from the pandemonium ahead. "If there were any tables, I'd flippin' flip them!"

"You guys were the gadgets in the plothole?" Jennifer screamed in horror. "Oh my god, how did I miss…?"

"Isn't it all remarkably cliché?" Ribbons asked, smirking. "Once you defeat the evil witch, the curse lifts. See, even the weather's better!"

Sure enough, the sun was shining through the clouds for the first time in weeks. Jennifer had almost forgotten how beautiful IAHF's campus could be, especially when she had been cooped up in the school for weeks on end.

"Just spray her!" Merka was screaming, as Megan continued to kick and holler. "I swear, if you don't she's going to kick out my ovaries!"

SPLURT! Franklin had pressed the trigger on his spray bottle, and a jet of bright blue antidote hit the alien right between the eyes.

"Good shot!" Taylor whistled. "Meggster, you're going to be fine now, okay?"

"That Gary Stu, Dirk, was not your brother," Kriss added coldly.

Up ahead, the brawl had ended. The captured students had taken out all of their vented frustrations on their Character Replacements, and all that was left was a pile of Glitter. It almost looked like the aftermath of a Sparklepire's funeral pyre.

"And that," hissed an obviously incensed Kiril Loris, "is for making me sparkle." He kicked contemptuously at the Glitter heaps.

Megan looked about her as if she was just waking from a nightmare. "What… what's going on?" She saw Dirk, standing there rather listlessly. The spark had gone out in his eyes. "Brother!"

"He's not your brother," Kriss repeated. "He's a Gary Stu."

"He looks like my brother!" bawled Megan. "Dirk, _why_? I… I trusted you!"

"You have no reason to distrust your real brother," another voice interjected. As if the day couldn't get any more surreal, a Mary Sue chose the opportunity to step out of the rapidly fading plothole. Taylor quickly raced into the plothole; he seemed intent on fetching something before it collapsed entirely.

"Who are you?" Megan demanded.

At the same time, Jennifer exclaimed, "_you_'re Luciya Emi von Kyuute!" She bristled in anger – this was the Mary Sue that Mighty Major J had gone off with! This was the Mary Sue behind everything!

"Princess and Representative of Angelland, at your service," Luciya drawled. She had a mane of pristine golden hair, complete with heart-shaped ahoge, and icy blue eyes. _Clip-clip_ went her stilettos as she stepped over to Dirk and trailed a slender finger along his shoulder. "This is a clone of your beloved brother, Megan," she said, smirking. "We programmed him with your brother's basic personality and sent him to infiltrate IAHF based on Mighty Major J's information."

Pointy-Ears gasped. "So that's what they've been up to!" she hissed. "The reports were unnaturally mysterious, so I thought Lilith had gotten back into the cloning business again…"

"Why would they bother cloning anyone in the first place?" Ribbons demanded.

"Clones make better spies," Luciya replied smugly. "It's easier for others to trust them, because they fit more seamlessly with the target population. You saw how quickly Megan trusted Dirk-clone here."

"What did you do to my brother, then?" Megan demanded, and Merka had to restrain her again to prevent her from tackling the Mary Sue. "You bitch!"

"I've heard worse," Luciya sneered. "And this is all of no consequence, anyways; we already have all of the information we need, so –" she suddenly gasped and gurgled. When she coughed, she coughed up blood.

Jennifer gasped as well. Glittery red blood was dripping down Luciya's chest; she had been stabbed by a sword through her torso from behind. Mr. Hugh had used his ceremonial sword on her, and he had a rather disgusted look on his face as he pulled the blade out of the Mary Sue with a nasty 'squelch'. Jennifer resisted the urge to vomit.

"You'll never tell Lilith that information," Mr. Hugh remarked coldly as he wiped the Glittery blood off his sword with her skirt. "We've already recovered our files and destroyed your reports."

"Mr. Hugh! That was so badass," Ribbons chortled, applauding. "Never thought old diplomats could do that sort of thing."

"I hate stabbing women in the back," Mr. Hugh sighed as he sheathed the sword again. The Mary Sue was already fading out of existence as he did so. "It's so remarkably unchivalrous."

"Mary Sues should never be equated with real women," Pointy-Ears growled. "They make real women cringe with disgust. Look at them, the snivelling Suvian worms –"

"Great, Ellie, we know," Ribbons snapped. "What are we going to do with this clone, anyways?"

"Surely we can find the original somewhere at the Factory," Mr. Hugh said, smiling thinly. "But that's an idea for a different day. I propose we try the clone for treason."

"He's out of IAHF's jurisdiction," Ribbons pointed out. "We'll take him off your hands. The DMSE&R can have him; Lori was hoping that we'd send in a clone anyways."

"Tell her I said hello," Mr. Hugh replied, smiling as the two Agents tied up the Gary Stu. "What about the cobra?"

"Ooh, where?" Ribbons demanded gleefully. "We'll take a nice poisonous snake with us, too…"

"No, we won't," Pointy-Ears snapped.

"Yes, we will! We'll call it Marley and send it off to the Cute Animal Friends Adoption Agency! I heard they're re-staffing."

"I heard they're defunct," Pointy-Ears noted, frowning. "Oh, well. I'll go fetch the snake."

Moments later, she came prancing back with a hissing and squirming sack. "Nasty piece of work," Mr. Hugh sighed.

"You only say that because Marley killed four people," sniffed Ribbons. "We better be off, though, lest the Flowers get mad. We'll tell Lori and Taytay you said hi." She started fumbling with her Remote Activator.

Jennifer started feeling sleepy again. Already, the Mochis had shooed most of the students off to the dorms again. The slow ones had been forced to return and sweep up the Glitter.

She watched Pointy-Ears talk to Mr. Hugh about something as her partner frog-marched Dirk through the portal and then lugged the cobra sack through as well. Mr. Hugh was frowning at what Pointy-Ears was saying, nodding occasionally.

"It's not over yet," she was saying. "I can feel a foreboding in my heart about this. It was just a prelude. We haven't killed Lilith yet, for one, and it was only one Mary Sue in action. You will have to face worse battles than this, Hugh. The best way to prepare is to unite the fanstudents."

"I know," began Mr. Hugh, but Pointy-Ears cut him off.

"The students only support various factions within the school, not the school as a whole. This is why Luciya was able to infiltrate so easily. Unifying students is the most important thing you can do now."

"What is it with the Eldar and giving cryptic warnings?" Ribbons demanded exasperatedly. "Come _on_, Ellie!"

They said their goodbyes, and Jennifer was about to head in the direction of the Hospital Wing when Taylor Drews-Garcia tumbled out of the rapidly fading plothole. Jennifer raced over to him; he was clutching a giant pot, in which one of the infamous Bled-spotted plants was growing.

"Let's get that to the Hospital Wing!" she exclaimed as Taylor staggered to his feet.

The only person left in the hallway after that was Mr. Hugh, staring out the window and thinking about the _elleth_'s warning.


	66. A Real Life Disney Ending

**Notes:** I've uploaded an omake to the Murder Mystery arc; it's called "If Fangirls Were Modern Gadgets" (yes, I am aware that there are also fanboys in there, too. Shush.) Go read if you want a dose of crack.

**Additional Disclaimer:** I do not own _Lord of the Rings_. Nor do I own the Royal Wedding, ahaha.

* * *

**Part XVI**

"I find it fitting," Lucas said later at dinner, "that all of this happened on Easter Sunday."

Cain and Michael stared, and then started banging their heads against the table. "How did we forget? We're horrible Angels. Horrible Angels!" Cain moaned. "Forgetting about Easter Sunday, imagine that!"

"Naw, it was celebrated by deposing that horrid Gary Stu," Lucas replied, leaning back in his seat. "And people rose from the dead today, too. I find it all miraculous."

"Earl Grey timing, you mean," Kriss sniggered as she walked past with Merka. Lucas raised both eyebrows, but said nothing.

Mighty Major J had returned to the Golag; he would be tried for treason and assault next week. Arthur was too frantic about the Royal Wedding, and the anxiousness was contagious.

Faye Markus had returned to the student section demanding what sort of crackpot institution resurrected people. "Obviously dead people should stay dead," she told anyone who cared to listen (not a lot, so she usually told the walls).

"Hey, Faye," Roksana called from the Japan table. "You looking forward to the Rapture?"

"What?" Faye echoed.

"Wow, that's pitiful," scoffed Akiko Arihima. "You don't know anything about 21 May, do you?"

"The world's going to end," added Kriss with the biggest, most trollish of troll faces plastered all over her face. "All the good little Christians will be beamed up to Lucas's house just in time to avoid some sort of global earthquake that comes from Jesus arriving back on Earth to kick Loki's ass."

"Hey!" Loki called from across the room. "I think all that Rapture stuff is bullshit, okay?"

"We've survived so many doomsday predictions that even I have become jaded to these," sniffed Lucas. "Those poor idiots. You know Sir Issac Newton placed the date of the end of the world somewhere in 2060?"

"Seems like a more likely date anyways," Merka pointed out. "At the rate we're going, we'll exhaust our resources by then."

"Either that, or we'll enter the Singularity!" chirped Allison Frazier.

"Can we not talk about doomsday? We're trying to eat dinner," snapped Megan. "And if the world's going to end, you might as well do everything you like right now." Pause. "And try not to die a virgin."

"Wouldn't that lessen your chances of getting to Lucas's house?" Susanna Black-White wondered.

"Psh! I'm going to Loki's bungalow anyways, so you shouldn't ask me." Megan cackled and looped her arms around said Shadow demon. "I mean, really, what's the use of living if you don't have fun and do everything you want to do? And if worst comes to worst, just get married on 20 May or something."

Faye was scowling all throughout the discussions. "Okay, right, I know about the Rapture," she snapped. "Anyways, I think that it's a perfectly legitimate claim! I mean, all the signs in our world are pointing to the end of the world! There were the earthquakes in Japan and all of the wars going on – not to mention false prophets, famines, persecutions of priests and other members of the Elect –"

"Oh shut up, those paedophiles deserved what was coming to them!" snapped Cain Harren. Faye looked shocked that an Angel actually told her to shut up.

"Look, if there's one thing that really ticks him off, it's little children getting harmed," Michael explained.

"Suffer the little children to come unto me," Cain quipped, smiling crookedly. Susanna poked his wings.

* * *

Jennifer, meanwhile, was anxiously waiting outside the Hospital Wing. Mr. Hugh was there as well; he looked a bit haggard from the day's activities.

Howard the Spy showed up in a neatly-pressed Armani suit. "Buona sera!" he said, and Mr. Hugh smiled wanly at him. "They haven't revived Mary yet?"

"She should be awake soon," Mr. Hugh replied quietly, looking pensive. "I was thinking, Howard… maybe we should… er…" he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, I know you love her, Howard, so I was thinking… that you could marry her since technically wedding vows only last until death, and we never renewed…"

"Are you offering this because you've set your fancy on someone else? Because I won't stand for Mary being dropped like this," Howard replied coldly.

Mr. Hugh's eyes widened. "Oh, no! No! Well, _yes_, and no. Look, I just want _one_ thing off my plate, okay? And it's not strictly Mary per se, since it's also the guilt of knowing that I can't care for her well enough. And the… the fire's gone out, Howard. Surely you must understand."

Howard looked around and waved at Jennifer, who waved back and feigned disinterest.

"I do understand, Hugh, but it still breaks my heart that you could ever think of someone like Mary as only second-best."

"You speak like I spoke when I first met her." Mr. Hugh's eyes seemed to be glistening with tears. "All those years ago, in an Italian villa… around this time, even."

Howard patted Mr. Hugh's shoulder. "I'll think about it, my friend."

At that moment, Nurse Florance opened the doors and admitted them into the Hospital Wing.

Jennifer looked around for a few moments, before noticing _him_ sitting up in bed, smiling at her.

"WORKBITCH!" she called. Not caring that she sounded absolutely ridiculous, Jennifer rushed over to his bed and nearly killed him again with a bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're back!" Over at Mary's bed, Mr. Hugh sent her a 'do you mind?' glare.

"I'm glad to be back," Workbitch replied once she was done hugging his lungs out, "but could you_ please_ be a little quieter? Mr. Hugh is giving you the Look."

Jennifer laughed sheepishly, only slightly twitching when he drew her close.

"You smell like orange blossoms," he mumbled, combing through her hair.

"Yeah, um… after the mayhem died down I went to take a shower. You've a problem with the perfume?"

"No! It's nice." Workbitch smiled against the side of her head. "So, tell me what happened."

As Jennifer recounted her tale for the umpteenth time, Workbitch closed his eyes. For a moment, he just listened.

Meanwhile, over at Mary's bed, Mr. Hugh and Howard were the first ones she saw when she woke up. "Hugh?" she mumbled, reaching out and taking his hand.

"Yes, it's me," Mr. Hugh replied gently. "You're back. Everything is fine."

"Really?" Mary sounded like such a little child as she said that that Mr. Hugh nearly broke down.

"Mary?" Mary turned at the voice, smiling when she saw Howard. "It's me."

"Come sta?" Mary asked gently. "You didn't miss me, did you?"

"Va bene…" Howard laughed sheepishly. "I missed you a lot."

Mary smiled weakly. Mr. Hugh watched them for a few minutes before mumbling something about rescheduling seminars and leaving the room.

"He doesn't love me anymore," Mary said sadly as she watched him leave.

"No, Mary, he loves you," Howard replied quietly. "But he feels as if he can't take care of you anymore. His job's too hectic; he never has enough time with anyone."

"It's almost like the old days," Mary mused. "When we were in Japan we rarely saw each other, since he was so absorbed in Treaty Revision… he needs a holiday."

"Unfortunately he works during holidays," Howard remarked, chuckling. After a while, his expression grew sombre again. "He loves you still, Mary, but it's not the same love that would lead to marriage."

"He thinks of me as a sister," Mary replied understandingly. "I've seen it in his actions."

Howard nodded sadly.

* * *

"Alfred! Alfred, are you all right?" Once again, the whirlwind of current events hadn't left IAHF unscathed. Alfred had been admitted into the Hospital Wing the Wednesday before the Royal Wedding, causing the America Adorers to crowd before the screen separating the student beds from the Staff beds in the infirmary with flowers and well-wishes.

"Honestly, why can't they go away?" Arthur demanded that evening, as Nurse Clara strung up additional curtains around the American's bed to block out the clamouring fangirls.

"I think it's sweet that they're thinking of me," Alfred replied, laughing weakly as Nurse Mary Seacull pushed in a trolley full of more gifts and flowers.

"Assuming that none of these have bombs in them…" Arthur remarked. "Or love potions, drugs…"

"We've checked all of these," Nurse Mary replied. "And we didn't bring in the lewd ones, so…"

"Great, I didn't know I had that many fans," Alfred said, grinning widely. "I'm catchin' up to ya, old man!" He reached up and squeezed Arthur's cheeks.

"Oh, shut it." Arthur flushed crimson. "I'm only here to make sure you're breathing. Got that?"

"No, you're here because you love me. So_ there_." Alfred stuck his tongue out at him. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Francis chose that moment to come running in, looking pale. "Alfred! I heard about the cyclones in the South!" he exclaimed, pulling up a chair. "No significant damage to any vital regions, I hope?"

"Widespread damage in Alabama, yes…" Alfred frowned. "You're not insinuating anything, are you?"

"You and Arthur assume too much from me," Francis complained, leaning back against this chair. "I have been on my best behaviour all year."

"Great. Once the summer holiday begins, we can only imagine what will happen to us," Arthur deadpanned.

"Come on, _rosbif_!" Francis reached over and prodded Arthur's side. "It's always better to experience it than to only fantasise, n'est-ce pas?"

Arthur huffed. Alfred laughed.

"Thanks for the offer, Francis," the American chuckled sheepishly. "But I don't know if I'll be up for it."

"Pooh-pooh. By the time I'm through –" Francis began to say, but Arthur reached over and smacked him. "Arthur! That hurt!"

"Yeah, play nice, Artie," Alfred snickered. "Man, this stomach-ache is killing me." With a pained 'oof', he leaned back against the pillows. "At least laughter's the best medicine, right?"

"Oh, _bien sûr_," Francis said, grinning suggestively. Arthur smacked him again.

He knew it would take a while for those states to recover. Kiku was still trying to recover from his earthquake, and it had already been a month. Arthur looked out the window for a few moments, a sombre expression on his face.

Who was next? It seemed as if this year was full of serious events. People were predicting the end of the world already, and for a moment, Arthur believed them. First Kiku, now Alfred – who next?

Sometimes, Arthur wished that he wasn't a Nation.

* * *

Nevertheless, the week leading up to the Royal Wedding was full of squealing Anglophiles and hectic Britons. Pirate Arthur seemed to be the only Arthur clone not interested in the wedding, but then again, he and the other pirates were busy firing students out of the various canon cannons that they had procured. Cristiana Moretti had been the first guinea pig for Pirate Antonio's cannon.

Lucia and Zariana-Sylvia Middleford had returned to Lake Eric again. Spring had burst into bloom in full earnest (as they all said, April showers brought May flowers), and students with pollen allergies stocked up on medication. Jennifer, who was susceptible to clover pollen, avoided the clover patches like the plague.

With the beauty of spring on full display, baby Fluffy Mint Bunnies began hopping about, cavorting with Flying Mint Bunny, the Invisible Unicorn, and several other Nations' familiars. Netherlands's lop-eared bunny, Arthur's hare, and Alfred's brown-and-white rabbit feasted on the abundant clover. New Zealand's sheep would often graze with them as well, although everyone would bolt at the sight of Cameroon's lion cub, Kokolo.

All of that made Mitsuki Horenake pass out from the cuteness one Thursday afternoon – the day before the dreaded (or anticipated, depending on who you asked) wedding.

"So, what were we supposed to be writing about for homework?" Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy yawned as Mitsuki giddily rolled about on the grass as she watched Kiku and Feliciano's cats, Tama and Gino, prance by chasing monarch butterflies. "Mitsuki! I slept through class, so you have to tell me!"

"We traded Mary Sue profiles and critiqued each other, and then we talked about Mary Sues who claim to be related to canon characters," Carolina Brown said patiently from not too far away, where Dorothy had spread out a picnic blanket and was eating an afternoon snack.

"Ooh," Hotaru pouted. "Still doesn't say what we did for homework, though…"

Isabella Mitchell walked up to Dorothy. "Hey, did you get Wizard Arthur's assignment for Crossovers?"

Dorothy paused mid-bite and swallowed. "Yeah, um, it's 'write an essay comparing and contrasting Germania and Legolas'," she replied.

"They look alike. That's all I know," Isabella muttered.

Dorothy pursed her lips. "Well, actually…" she paused. "I don't think it's fair that he's assigning this, since not everyone knows who Legolas is."

"Oh, it's fair game, seeing that they'd have to know who he is if they're mistaking him for Germania," Carolina remarked. "I mean, you know he's in _Lord of the Rings_, right?"

"Aragorn looks like a dark-haired France," Tori Troutman randomly said as she plopped down next to Carolina. "Only, you know, more modest and more hydrophobic."

"Haha, Alfred could be a hobbit. He eats enough to be one."

"No, obviously Alfred's Boromir. Matthew can be Faramir. And Arthur can be Denethor."

"One does not simply nuke Mordor."

"Fff, if Ivan was Sauron… using the One Ring to make Middle-earth become one with him…"

Mitsuki watched the two Nerds talk, looking supremely confused. "Do you know what they're talking about?" she asked Hotaru, but Hotaru was already asleep.

* * *

On Friday morning –

Actually, it wasn't even properly morning. Jennifer had woken up at an ungodly hour in the morning with all of the other Anglophiles. In fact, anyone who cared to see the Royal Wedding found themselves crowding into the Orientation Hall to watch the wedding. Arthur had frog-marched in the other Commonwealth nations; they were all dressed in suits and looked slightly resentful. Arthur and his clones all wore matching outfits and hats; it was nigh impossible to tell one from the other.

"How long is this going to take?" Seychelles yawned, leaning sleepily against Australia.

"Sit up, Sey," snapped Arthur irritably as he turned to the screen.

"It's just the procession," whined Seychelles.

"It's still important. They go in a particular order, you know," Arthur growled.

"Why so much pomp and circumstance?"

"Will you stop asking questions and let the rest of us watch?"

They watched for a few moments, and then Yuri Yamaguchi squealed at the sight of the bride's dress. Considering that the Royals had kept Kate's dress a secret until the wedding day, it really was quite a stunning gown.

"I want to wear that at my wedding!" Yuri squealed. "It's so pretty!"

"It's a marvellous dress, isn't it?" Arthur said smugly. "It's an Alexander McQueen design. Sarah Burton and Kate worked on the design together, and everything is absolutely pristine. You see the lace there? It's supposed to evoke a blooming flower, and the embroiderers washed their hands every half an hour to ensure the quality. Needles were changed –"

"Shush, Art, you can fangasm over the dress later," Australia growled. "Blimey, who's the chick carrying her train? She's got a nice –"

"You don't say such things about the bride's sister!" Policeman Arthur gasped, obviously scandalised.

The procession continued into Westminster Abbey. People were obviously fighting the urge to fall asleep. Kriss was already dozing against Merka, mumbling something about waking her when the service was over.

"You know, some of us are only interested because of her potential," Britannia Angel pointed out, leaning against Arthur's chair and watching the screen uninterestedly. "I wonder if she's going to become the next Diana…"

"She seems too goody-goody," Wizard Arthur pointed out. "She hasn't really spoken publicly, and every time we see her in public she seems to keep her thoughts to herself. Not like Di at all."

"Poor Di," sighed Matthew.

"You know, she had a poster of William on her wall when she was at school," Karin Guarez piped up from the students. "Fangirl much?"

"Dream on," snorted the Arthurs.

"Oh, it'd be so lovely if one of you did fall for one of us," Sakura Crystal Kirkland sighed dreamily.

"Thank god she's leaving after this semester," Wizard Arthur said loudly.

"That's mean!" New Zealand exclaimed. He (or she, perhaps) was dressed in a pastel suit – a compromise between masculinity and femininity.

Normal Arthur snorted, bouncing Chibi Arthur on his knee slightly. The little Briton was falling asleep.

"When is this going to be over?" Chibi Arthur demanded. "I'm_ bored_."

"This is the wedding of the decade, my boy," Policeman Arthur drawled, ruffling Chibi Arthur's hair. "Our royals are redefining themselves with this wedding. Even a few decades ago, the idea of a commoner like Kate Middleton marrying Prince William would have been unthinkable."

"She's the first Royal bride to get a college degree," added Wizard Arthur.

"Still, that bishop just keeps on talking and talking and _talking_!" Chibi Arthur yawned widely.

"You know, those commemorative plates are going off like hotcakes on the Internet," Merka remarked suddenly from the student section. "I think there are a couple on the black market – oh good lord, William's balding!"

"Twenty-nine years old, and already going bald," snickered Molly O'Flannigan-Oxenstierna.

"He's a Royal. Can't he invest in some hair-growing products?" Jaclyn Chase wondered.

"D'aw, look at the ickle choir boys!" Georgina Quinn cooed. "Ickle wickle choir boys!"

"Oh great, stop paedoing on the poor chorus boys," Melissa N. Rohart snapped.

"Prince Harry's looking _fine_," whistled Kriss, having been woken up by Merka's outburst earlier. Arthur sent her an odd look.

"Yes, everyone, keep calm. You can still marry Harry," Merka joked. Kriss snickered.

"Oh, shut up. Harry's not going to marry _you_," scoffed Sakura.

"Sure, like he'd marry _you_," Kriss replied snidely.

Merka laughed. "You and your obsession with redheads."

"EVERYTHING IS HARRY AND NOTHING HURTS!" Kriss cackled loudly. "Look at him, being an awesome ginger troll!"

"He simply doesn't know when to stop snickering at his brother, does he?" Arthur demanded, looking slightly affronted.

_Did Prince William just say Kate looks beautiful? My heart just melted_, Charley Maytha declared.

"D'awwwwwww!" Rinaldia squee'd. Everyone took cover as several windows broke.

After that, everyone was oddly silent for the rest of the wedding ceremony. That is, until –

"THEY KISSED! TWICE! AND SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO WAVE! THAT IS TOO ADORABLE!"

* * *

Alfred had been vaguely disappointed that he had missed the wedding watching marathon (for one day all over the world, the tables were flipped in front of the telly. Women were forcing men to watch something on television with them, and cheered and hooted like those men at sporting event marathons), but he cheered up immediately when Arthur delivered him his mail a few days later.

"Oh, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ," Alfred laughed as Arthur folded his arms and sent a despairing look at Kiku, who was sitting next to him with a sympathising smile. "Get a load of this editorial: 'America's Nitwit Anglophiles'. I'm afraid the students are going to be all over this."

"Not just any student, it seems," Kiku replied serenely, "those who ship the Special Relationship."

"Don't remind me of the time Princess Di visited Japan," Arthur groaned. "Had we existed as a fandom then, the Asakiku shippers..."

"Say no more," Kiku replied, smirking slightly. "You know, I dimly recall hearing that in the years when Kate and William were not seeing each other, William went to meet an American socialite."

"She wasn't interested," Arthur replied, trying to read Alfred's article without making it look as if he was. "If she had been…"

"Our fangirls would never give us a moment's peace," Alfred finished. "Imagine all of the fanfiction."

"All of the double wedding fanfiction," agreed Arthur, shuddering. "The mind boggles."

"You two must count your blessings, then," Kiku sighed. "We did not exist as a fandom when Edward VIII abdicated so that he could marry an American divorcée."

"We'd never live it down," Arthur remarked wryly as Alfred continued to read through his mail.

"Wow, who sent me a long fan letter?" he wondered. "I skimmed it. It's just one long sympathy card."

"Probably Carolina Brown," Kiku replied drily.

Alfred snickered, stuffed the letter back into its envelope, and continued. His mobile suddenly rang; Arthur fetched it for him.

"Hey, you've reached the hero!" Alfred exclaimed as he picked up. "Oh, hey, boss! Yeah… okay…" he suddenly fell silent. "Oh. Wow, seriously? I can't believe it! You're too awesome! Bye!"

"I do not mean to pry, but what was that about?" Kiku asked as Alfred hung up and grinned stupidly.

"Didn't you hear?" Alfred's face was shining with happiness. "We killed Osama Bin Laden!"


	67. Sine Qua Non

**Notes:** Kudos to whoever can pick up the _Battlestar Galactica_ (2003) references around the end of this chapter. :'D

**ETA:** Completely rewrote the courtroom scene, because **LolliDictator** pointed out that I was going with debate cross-ex, not court cross-ex, and therefore rendered the entire scene inaccurately. OTL

**Warnings:** Triggers in the courtroom scene, coupled with graphic descriptions of… er… _yeah_.

* * *

**Part XVII**

"Turn in your papers on the Republic of Molossia!" Peter Kirkland chirped in class on Monday. "We'll be talking about the Dominion of British West Florida today."

"OH MY GOD, IS THIS THE USUK LOVECHILD THAT WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR?" screamed several of the USUK shippers. Everyone else groaned.

"Er…" Peter looked rather disgusted. "Um, Alfred's Jerkland's little brother," he pointed out. "And them having a kid is gross."

"Actually, if the founders of the Dominion of British West Florida have anything to say in this matter, it would have been a SpUK lovechild," Wy pointed out, as Seborga browsed through the Dominion's website. "They insist that the American annexation of West Florida was illegal. According to their interpretation of the Treaty of – that's not Versailles, that's _Verseille_."

Peter groaned. "Don't tell me they spawned a mini-Palace or something."

Wy laughed weakly. "Moving on, then. According to their interpretation of the 1783 Treaty of Versailles, the British surrendered Florida to the Spanish with terms that did not prevent the return of Florida to Britain after the Spanish transferred possession of the territory to France and then lost their Royal Family."

"What?" Peter and the students asked.

Seborga groaned and started drawing on the board. "What our dear Wy is trying to say," he drawled, "is that Britain ceded Florida to Spain in the 1783 Treaty of Versailles. However, the terms, according to the founders of this micronation, were worded strangely. As a result, when Spain ceded Florida to France, that transfer was not legal or binding, and when Napoleon put his brother on the Spanish throne, Spain lost all legal rights to West Florida because the territory was ceded to the King and Kingdom of Spain, not to Napoleon's nepotism-infested empire."

"So they're trying to assert independence based on how an old treaty was worded?" Karin Guarez demanded. "And you thought your _beta reader_ was anal."

Several students snickered.

"Yes, that's basically it. The founders say that because of Napoleon putting his brother on the Spanish throne, the territory should have gone back to British control and that the United States therefore had no right to annex it."

"So if we were to personify this micronation… it would be an extremely anal SpUK child who hates Alfred or something," Jodie Smith snickered.

"And it's an Anglophile, too," added Merka, "since it's trying to get into the British Commonwealth."

"But Jerkland won't acknowledge it, because he thinks British West Florida's Alfred's problem, not his," finished Peter.

"Someone seriously wants Arthur to be their guardian?" demanded Mike Hawk. "Wow, they must have been dropped on their head as a colony or something."

"Hey! Don't question Arthur's parenting skills!" Sakura screeched.

* * *

"They're replacing the History of Espionage seminar with one on roleplaying and cosplaying!" reported Anita Khok at lunch. "I'm a bit sad. I wanted to know more about spying."

"You could just go to the Spy Museum in Washington D.C.," Jennifer pointed out. "That museum is _cool_."

Faye Markus suddenly strutted into the dining hall and shoved Roksana out of her seat. "DING DONG, THE WICKED MUSLIM TERRORIST IS DEAD!" she sang obnoxiously, dancing around the room.

"Hey!" Roksana got up. "It's rude to shove."

"It's rude to bomb the World Trade Centre."

Susanna Black-White jumped up. "It's rude to accuse innocent people based on stereotypes!"

"It's rude to –" Faye cut off, frowning.

"Also, Al Qaeda didn't _bomb_ the towers, they crashed planes into them. Get your facts straight," chipped in Franklin.

"I don't think it's right to celebrate someone's death, though," Lydiacatfish piped up from her table. "Even if it's Bin Laden."

"I think we have every reason to celebrate, though, since he masterminded 9/11," Taylor pointed out.

"I mean, I had a family friend die in 9/11," added Eva Danielson quietly. Karen DuLay gave her a cookie, smiling sadly.

"I think…" Lucas said thoughtfully, "that whoever wants to celebrate should have the right to do so – but in private, so they don't impinge on other peoples' belief of respect for the dead."

"That's the nicest and most tolerant thing you've said all year," Kitty noted, snickering. "Who are you and what have you done with Mr. Holier than Thou?"

KyAnna giggled. "Well, then, anyone who wants to party should probably stop by my room after class today!"

Karin looked at Tori as several American students got up and walked over to the Dark Angel. "I had been thinking of a different sort of celebration…" Karin said quietly. "Sort of a… 'this is what he's done; don't let this happen again' sort of thing."

Tori nodded, not saying anything.

* * *

"Hey, Alfred!" Feliciano chirped as the American strode back into the common room. "We made you some pasta!"

"_We_ made pasta?" Ludwig echoed, looking supremely confused.

"Well, I made most of it and Ludwig cut the tomatoes for the sauce," Feliciano conceded. "Still! I hope you like it!"

"Of course I will, Feli!" Alfred chirped, taking the platter with a grin. "Man, this looks delicious!"

"It _is_ delicious," Feliciano replied. "It's not Olive Garden."

"Hey!" Alfred frowned. "I happen to_ like_ Olive Garden!"

"Ve, it's not as authentically good as the stuff at my house, anyways," Feliciano asserted, nodding. "Anyway, Luddy promised me he'd teach me how to make bratwurst! Ciao!" The Italian skipped off, pulling the German with him.

Alfred stared at his pasta for a few moments before grabbing a fork. "If you're not going to eat it, say so," Arthur called from his armchair, where he was embroidering. Matthew sat next to the Briton, reading a book. Alfred walked over and sat down with them, starting to eat his pasta.

"Where's Ivan?" he asked after a moment.

"Showing Gilbert his nukes," Matthew said bashfully, not looking up from his book.

"I've got to meet Kiku," Arthur said abruptly. "Alfred, do you know where he is?" He directed that question at Matthew, though, causing the Canadian to bristle.

"I'm _Matthew_, eh," he grumbled, still keeping his eyes on the pages of his book. "And he should be in the kitchen with Ludwig and Feliciano."

Arthur got up with his embroidery, but no sooner had he left did Yao Wang replace him. The Chinese was carrying a panda. "Have you seen Taiwan, aru?" he asked, looking over at Matthew and Alfred.

Matthew still didn't look up from his book. "She's with Hong Kong and Tibet in the conservatory. Don't bother looking, though; she says that she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Woah! Alfred, did the air start speaking, aru?" demanded Yao. Matthew started banging his head with his book.

"That's Mattie you're talking to," Alfred replied matter-of-factly as he finished his pasta.

"You have an invisible friend named Mattie, aru?" Yao asked, causing Matthew to facepalm.

"I'm _CANADA_," Matthew hissed.

"Oh, _Canada_," Yao looked slightly sheepish. "Heh, 对不起. Anyway, I guess I'll have to find Shinatty-猫咪, because Taiwan doesn't want to talk to me or play with Panda, aru. Do you know where Shinatty-猫咪 is?"

"Shinatty-chan is with Netherlands," Matthew muttered, as Kumajirou climbed up his shoulder with a salmon in his mouth. "Kumaichi, I don't want any salmon, eh."

"Who are you?" demanded Kumajirou.

"I'm Canada," Matthew repeated as Yao left the room. Alfred put the now-empty platter on the table and leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Whatchu reading?" demanded the American after a moment, snatching the book out of Matthew's hands. "_Anne of Green Gables_? _Seriously_?"

"It's a good book; I'll have you know, eh!" Matthew hissed, snatching it back. "Better than that _Twilight_ crap you came up with!"

Alfred looked over at a couple of paragraphs. "Ew, it's so outdated," he whined. "And it sounds so boring. Where are the ninjas and robots?"

Matthew groaned. "Some of us prefer plots that don't require explosions every other chapter," he remarked waspishly. "And not all of us find timeless classics so boring that we must desecrate them with _zombies and sea monsters_ in order to make them 'more interesting'!"

"Cool story, bro, and don't diss _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_!" Alfred yawned. "Anyways, Mattie, wanna go play 'Worst Singer Ever'? I think it's your turn."

Alfred and Matthew had a music rivalry to see who could come up with the worst singer ever. Alfred had started with Miley Cyrus; Matthew had countered that with Justin Bieber. Now Alfred had replied with Rebecca Black. Matthew was waiting for Celine Dion to mess up.

"Nah, I think you're going to win with the entire Ark Music Factory line-up," Matthew dismissed.

"Come _on_, Matt!" Alfred pouted. "What's the fun in that? I'm still waiting for someone to beat Rebecca Black. Besides, if you can't come up with someone worse, I'll 'accidentally' release pictures of you and Lady Gaga!"

Matthew groaned and looked up. "I was _not_ going out with Lady Gaga!"

"_Surrrre_. Oh, well, I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, since you two broke up –"

"Shut up! You're thinking of the wrong Matthew Williams!" Matthew hid his face in his hands. "Why am I mistaken for everyone?"

"I dunno, bro, maybe you gotta speak up more! Be more assertive!" Alfred grinned. "Oh, well. I'll go bother Artie and Kiku some more!" With that, he launched himself off the sofa and rushed out the door.

"AT LEAST TAKE YOUR STUPID DISH WITH YOU, EH!" Matthew hollered after him.

* * *

"This court now calls Jennifer Chang to the witness stand," Vash Zwingli said imperiously. Next to him, Belgium and Tibet watched.

It was already Wednesday afternoon, and Jennifer was skipping Evolution of War class to testify against Mighty Major J in the International Court of Justice. That may be a good thing, though, since the lesson planned that day was supposed to talk about why genocide rape is different and worse than war rape. She didn't need another nervous breakdown.

Workbitch gently squeezed Jennifer's hand, smiling at her as she shuffled up to the witness stand. Matthew was acting as prosecutor for them; Francis was the defence attorney again. Francis didn't seem all that thrilled to defend Mighty Major J, mostly because he had his own issues with certain misbehaving chiefs of the International Monetary Fund. Nevertheless, he had a case to run.

"Miss Chang," Matthew said. "Could you please state in your own words what happened to you on Thursday, 14 April?"

Jennifer looked at him calculatingly for a few minutes before starting to speak.

"I was walking back from my detention. It was actually Friday the 15th, though, because I had detention until midnight or so, polishing the weapons in the weapons room." She paused, trying to suppress the lump in her throat and her trembling. She refused to look at the defendant as she continued. "And then… he came out of nowhere."

"Who do you mean by 'he'?" Matthew asked gently.

"Mighty Major J. He pushed me against a wall… and he panted in my ear, saying that if I stayed quiet he wouldn't kill me…" she sniffled.

"Did you struggle?"

"I kicked and punched, but look at him. It's hard to overpower him when you have my physique, you know."

"Right. So, what happened next?"

Jennifer shuddered. "He undid his pants and told me to suck it."

"Suck what?"

"Suck his penis, what else?"

Francis and the jury snickered. "Order in the court," Vash hollered, banging his gavel.

Matthew sighed. "And then what happened?" he asked.

"I refused, of course. I told him I wasn't going to, because I had a boyfriend… and he slapped me… told me that he thought the only reason why Work kept me around was because… because I…" she rocked back and forth, looking as if she was on the verge of breaking down again. "Because of my blowjob skills."

Vash had to bang the gavel several more times before Francis and the jury quieted. Jennifer was bright scarlet now, wishing that she could just disappear into the ground. "Continue," the Swiss said, glaring nastily at the jury.

"A-A-And then he said that his dick wasn't going to suck itself, so I might as well do it for him," Jennifer continued, her voice quivering. "He was then going to ram his penis into my mouth since he was already forcing my mouth open, but this blonde appeared out of nowhere –"

"Wait, wait, he was going to force you to perform non-consensual oral sex on him?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah," Jennifer replied, before hiding her face in her hands. After a moment or two, she looked up again. The defendant was sneering; she tried not to look at him as she continued. "Then, this blonde appeared. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and was dressed in this ridiculously short sky-blue dress."

"This picture was taken by a security camera that captured Mr. Allen killing the Mary Sue in question on 24 April. Is that the same Mary Sue?"

Jennifer nodded. "That's her. Luciya Emi von Kyuute."

"So, can you restate what you witnessed between Mighty Major J and Luciya?"

Jennifer cleared her throat. "Luciya asked him why he had to resort to assault when _she_ was perfectly willing to put out in return for some information on the school. He replied that he wanted the sex up front and he would provide the information later. She agreed, and they left."

"And then you escaped." Jennifer nodded, so Matthew turned his attention back to the judge. "There you have it, eh."

"Would the defence team like to cross-examine the witness?" Belgium asked.

Francis stood up, smirking at Matthew. "D'accord," he said to Jennifer. "Let's begin with the big question. Why would you do this?"

"Why would I do what?" Jennifer demanded, frowning.

"Look at him, mademoiselle! He's strong, handsome… are you sure you didn't throw yourself at him and then used this farce of an assault case to cover your tracks?"

Jennifer goggled at him. "How dare you insinuate that I am lying!" she screeched.

"Mademoiselle, there is no need to get ruffled. The man you are accusing would never force himself on anyone. Yes, he has a weakness for women, particularly blondes. But with those muscles, he could just as easily get himself a girlfriend. Why would he resort to assault?"

Jennifer's cheeks were beyond scarlet now. "You're wrong, Francis," she hissed. "First off –"

"The witness must _answer the question_," Vash snapped.

Jennifer looked as if she would protest, but Workbitch sent her a warning look. Huffing, the fangirl glared at Francis and muttered something unprintable.

"You still haven't answered my question," Francis pointed out smugly.

"I plead the Fifth," Jennifer snapped.

"You can't use that. You signed a contract that revokes your right to remain silent."

Jennifer glared. "If I can't assert my opinion, then I will remain silent."

"Very well," Belgium said, her voice rather soft. "You may leave, Miss Chang."

* * *

Francis strode triumphantly from the courtroom. The assault case had been dropped, due to lack of solid evidence.

His triumph, however, was marred by Arthur muttering something about painting all of his belongings Bled in revenge.

"L'Angleterre, sticking up for a student? What is this? You know she wouldn't have won; it was all he said-she said, and her burden of proof was too great anyway," he told the Briton, slinging a casual arm around him. "And Mattie, dear, it had to be done."

"Why, though?" Matthew wondered, his curl bouncing despondently. "You just _had_ to bring up Dominique Strauss-Kahn, didn't you? All of that _merde_ about him being the representative of the proletarian nations…"

"Francis, you know this is why rape and sexual assault are so underreported," Seychelles piped up as the entire group walked away from the courthouse. Mighty Major J was being escorted back to the Golag; he would face another trial for treason. "It's because the victims are too scared to stand up there in the witness stand and retell their story only for it to be dismissed by the court or debunked as lies. I may not have been there when she was assaulted, Francis, but I'm sure that she didn't throw herself at him. Women rarely lie about these things."

"What do _you_ know about the chambermaid, anyways?" Matthew added.

Francis sighed. "She did a gross injustice by labelling him as a rapist," he snapped. "I knew DSK. Do you think I would have willingly become his friend if I thought that he was a compulsive rapist? Or if he was a sexual predator?"

"Hm, sounds like someone we know," Arthur said loudly.

"He was just seductive; he loved women –"

"Definitely sounds like someone we know," Arthur continued, waving at Francis's genderbent counterpart, Françoise, as she walked past. The Frenchwoman had been on the jury; she had looked particularly incensed when Francis brought up Dominique Strauss-Kahn in his case.

"Excusez-moi, Francis," Françoise growled, pausing to give her male counterpart a piece of her mind. "Give me a break, _s'il vous plaît_. We French women are not pieces of chocolate! You're dismissing DSK's case as another 'oh, the French just love food and women' incident!"

"Françoise, darling, you're misunderstanding the entire thing –"

"I think she has a point, and you're just mad that Alfred took pictures of DSK with handcuffs on," Matthew grumbled.

"And just for that, I hope the maid wins the case," added Arthur smugly.

* * *

"Fuck the court system," sighed Jennifer. "I don't want to try again."

"It'll be all right," Workbitch replied. They were leaving the courthouse, too, looking slightly downcast. "I'm just disappointed that he practically got away with harming you. That's not the way to learn."

"Maybe the Turnkey will 'accidentally' kill him," Jennifer said with relish.

"You shouldn't wish death on anyone."

"I'm a tad pissed, that's all," Jennifer crossed her arms and pouted. After a few moments, she gave up. "Okay, at least he's still not at liberty. What I am pissed about is that Francis tried to make me look like a slut. A _slut_! Who's apparently sick and tired of her boyfriend's microscopic dick! What is this bullshit? I mean, it might as well have been Antonio doing defence, because there was so much_ bullshit_ in that case!" She paused. "And I don't think you have a microscopic dick. Besides, if yours was microscopic, I bet J's is atomic."

Workbitch snickered, but his eyes remained sad. In about a month or two, they would have to say good-bye. The thought tugged at his heartstrings. Why? Why did the happiest year of his life have to end so soon?"

"Shh, don't think about that anymore. Look how far we've come," he said after a moment, lost in his memories as he said that. How far had they gone? Had it really been seven months since they first met? Somehow, it felt longer.

On the other hand, Jennifer looked like she would much rather rant about how she didn't ask for assault by dressing a certain way (had she been dressed like a nun, it still would have happened), but after a moment she shrugged. He had a point. There was no use in crying over spilled milk – or cursing the toppled milk glass.

"I remember our first meeting," she said, smiling. "Tuesday morning, in October. You rescued me from the Rome-Wall."

They paused in front of a window. Outside, Lake Eric reflected the sunset. Workbitch smiled at the scenery outside, before turning to her once more.

"Yes, and then the Halloween Incident…"

Jennifer cackled. "What did you say again? 'Fair damsel with your hair like raven wings'?"

Workbitch turned pink. "Don't remind me!" he chided.

"Oh, you were so cheesy," Jennifer taunted, twirling around and nearly falling as she did so. Workbitch held out his hand; she took it and twirled into his arms with a shout of laughter.

"Allow me to give my heart to thee," the secretary quipped, his breath tickling her ear. Jennifer froze for a few seconds before smiling softly and looking out the window, trying to relax. Workbitch noticed her tenseness; he sighed and loosened his grip, letting her have some space. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you."

"I know you won't." Jennifer smiled thinly. "If only we could…" she added thoughtfully after a few moments, looking up at him with all sorts of emotions in her eyes. Workbitch stared for a few moments, mesmerised.

"Your hair smells different," he said after a few moments. Jennifer snorted.

"Yeah, camellias," she said, thudding her head against his chest. "You just noticed?"

"I was trying to pinpoint the flower!" Workbitch pretended to look hurt. "It's nice. Reminds me of the camellias I used to send you."

"I was hoping that it would," Jennifer replied. "You know what? I just realised something."

"Tell me this epiphany," Workbitch joked, grinning. Jennifer good-naturedly shoved him. "Hey!"

"Ever heard of the term 'sine qua non'?" the fangirl asked, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him back to her.

"Without which not," Workbitch replied matter-of-factly. "Have you been taking lessons from the Rome-Wall?"

"No, I remember it from a sci-fi T.V. programme I used to watch," Jennifer replied. "Anyways…"

Workbitch waited, watching the fangirl flush a couple different shades of red. Then Jennifer leaned in and kissed him gently, whispering "you're my sine qua non" against his lips.

Well, that should have won an award for geekiest love confession, right up there with "when I look into the Mirror of Erised, I see you and me". But Workbitch liked it, nonetheless.

"I love you, too," he replied after they broke apart, and Jennifer laughed.

"About time."

* * *

Lilith wanted to kill the messenger. She wanted to smash that stupid Defective against a wall of rusty nails and bash out her brains. How _dare_ she bring bad news! Stupid Defective _bitch_!

Such was the unhappy lot of the Defectives, the not-so-perfect Mary Sue mess-ups that Mary Sue Factories employed as cheap labour – well, actually it was more like slave labour, but try telling that to Purity Sues.

"Leave!" Lilith screamed, flinging a dagger at the Defective as she fled. Luckily, the Defective closed the door quickly and the knife ended up embedded in the door instead of her neck. Incensed, the elleth stormed up to the door and yanked her dagger out of the wilver wood. She turned around to survey her wall of targets.

_Wham_. The dagger hit its mark – namely, a picture of PPC Agent Eledhwen Elerossiel.

_Wham_. Another dagger hit a picture of Eledhwen's partner, Christianne Shieh.

_Wham_. The third stabbed the Venomous Tentacula in effigy.

Lilith strode over and plucked out the knives. She looked at her final target.

Mr. Hugh – _or was it Mr. Allen_? _That man has some serious identity issues_, thought Lilith – smiled blankly at her from the photograph paper. He had impregnated the woman who had killed her first second-in-command, Alexandra.

And then he killed her favourite scout, too. That stupid Defective _had_ to choose today to tell her that Luciya was dead, of all days. The thought made Lilith's eye twitch.

Still, the IAHF Course Coordinator was attractive; she had to give him that. For a fleeting moment, Lilith considered sparing his life after she destroyed his school. He could come over as her personal attendant. Her _subordinates_ couldn't have all the fun, after all. As the leader, she ought to get first choice in the spoils, right?

But then she reminded herself that A) he would refuse, and B) it would be remarkably cliché. So in the end, Lilith threw all three daggers at the picture of Mr. Hugh and sneered as they tore holes in his pretty face.

"You're standing in my way, Hughie," she said icily as she plucked out the daggers from the photograph. "I don't like it when people get in my way."


	68. Of Roleplaying and French Tigers

**Part XVIII**

When the news got out that Jennifer's court case had been dropped, there were talks of protest.

"Pardon my French, but _what the fuck_." Andy snapped at dinner the night before the Cosplay and Fear the Frying Pan seminars. "She should have won. We all supported her."

"I guess that's life," Sara remarked philosophically. "Shitty as a shithole, but… I'm not surprised, really."

"Let's kill that stupid Frenchman!" Yuri Yamaguchi screamed, but Lucas held her down before she could bolt out the room.

"Don't," the Angel snapped. "I don't like Francis, either, but violence isn't the answer."

"He's not going to respond to things like boycotting, you know," Karen pointed out.

Some Staff members carried similar sentiments.

"Who," growled Seychelles at dinner, "was the _idiot_ that assigned Francis as Mighty Major J's defence attorney?"

"The court," Mr. Allen replied, not looking up from his laptop. Since Mr. Hugh was the technologically incompetent one, Mr. Allen had to do all the tech-y things. Reading a blog from the British Ambassador to Brazil was one of them.

"What are you reading?" Shinbun-kun asked, leaning over.

"Challenges of Diplomacy and its Professionals in the 21st Century," Mr. Allen replied matter-of-factly. "It talks about the XVI National Meeting of Foreign Relations Students. Apparently modern diplomacy relies more on multilateral relations than on bilateral relations."

"Threesomes?" cackled Shinbun. Mr. Allen flicked some peas at him.

Seychelles was giving the judges a piece of her mind (Mr. Allen wasn't listening closely, but he heard Francis's name several times). Belgium and Tibet were giving Vash the 'this is all your fault' look.

"Did you hear his defence case? Don't you remember his reputation? He might as well have been defending himself!"

"The problem is," Vash said smoothly, "justice is blind. We're required to make unpopular decisions if they support the principles of fairness –"

"When either Francis or that student harasses you, don't say I didn't warn you," Seychelles sniffed, crossing her arms and glowering at him.

"Francis wouldn't _dare_," Vash replied lightly, looking over at the Frenchman.

"Hey, guess what?" Feliciano came rushing into the room, followed by a blushing Kiku. "They revealed the split televoting and jury voting results of the Eurovision song contest!"

"Azerbaijan won, yeah," Arthur pointed out. "Congratulations on getting second place."

"Congratulations on being eleventh, then!" Feliciano twirled about. "I'm so happy, ve! Second place!"

"I was surprised that Ludwig could get that far with Lena again," Elisabeta remarked. "And Vash getting last place shouldn't surprise me as much as it did."

"Congratulations to Denmark, too," added Feliciano, "for getting fifth place, was it?"

"Something like that," Denmark replied. "Fifty-five years of Eurovision already, Francis! Imagine that!"

Francis laughed a little. "I still wonder how Berwald got away with that song of his," he remarked. "So you _are_ popular, Berwald, n'est-ce pas?"

"Hush," Tino rebuked, leaning against Berwald. He didn't place very highly this year, despite having an adorable song about a boy named Peter who tells his mother that he wants to save the Earth.

Meanwhile, Kiku had taken a seat between Heracles and Sadiq (Heracles had been remarkably smug about his song beating Sadiq's in the semi-finals), apologising quietly.

"Don't be like that," scoffed the Turk as the Japanese started eating. "What went wrong?"

"I'm feeling rather uneasy," Kiku replied. "It's got nothing to do with those strange end-of-the-world predictions, mind you."

"Typhoon season's starting, aru," Yao reminded from across the table.

"Iceland, please stop fuming," Arthur snapped suddenly. "At this rate I won't be able to travel."

"Blame the volcano," Iceland replied sourly.

"What do you think about 21 May, anyway?" Feliciano asked the table at large.

Berwald snickered. "B'llsh't," he said immediately.

* * *

That fateful Saturday morning, students gathered on the front lawn for the Cosplay and the Fear the Frying Pan seminars. Faye looked rather surprised that no one had been raptured away.

"Will you look at that," snickered Taylor Drews-Garcia. "The world was supposed to end today, but it didn't."

"Shut up, faggot!" Faye snapped. "Maybe there was just a minor miscalculation!"

"What did you just call him?" Franklin demanded, raising his Modern World History textbook threateningly.

"A fag, what else?" Faye sneered. "You and him, having gay fag sex –"

"Hey, hey, shut up, all right?" Cain Harren growled at her, walking past with Lucas and Michael.

"Do you have something against me?" Faye demanded.

Cain feigned thoughtfulness. "Yeah, I do. I don't like how you're a narrow-minded bigot."

"If you're supporting the fags, you must be one yourself! Gay fag adulterer!"

"Ooh, are we talking about WBC idiocy?" Andy dropped by, smirking. "I pity Allison Frazier for having to put up with your bullshit, Faye."

"That argument makes no sense," Michael Arch snapped. "First off, we Angels do not support homosexual relations. We tolerate them, yes, but that functions under a 'don't ask, don't tell' sort of policy. And how exactly does tolerating other people lead to us being branded as adulterers?"

"Don't try to put reason to her ideas," Andy said sagely. "She's just sore about not getting raptured."

"Well, she never stood a chance," Lucas pointed out. "The undead do not receive salvation."

"HO SHIIIII –!" Andy cackled. All of the blood drained from Faye's face.

"Which one of you idiots forgot to tell me that?" she demanded, even as Ludwig and Feliciano arrived on the scene, followed by Elisabeta, Monaco, and Liechtenstein.

"SILENCE!" Ludwig hollered, silencing everyone effectively. "Students whose first names start with A through L go with me. Everyone else, go with Elisabeta. We will trade off after lunch! No exceptions!"

Andy looked horrendously disappointed, but Monaco, one of the targets of his affections (the other was Seborga, who seemed to like the attention), looked relieved. It may have something to do with that one time when Andy had serenaded her with "Marian the Librarian".

"Serves you right, Freakdrew," sneered Faye. Andy blew cigarette smoke in her face. "HEY! WATCH IT!"

"Don't call me 'Drew', Fundie," he replied, flicking the cigarette butt at her. She looked highly affronted, but Ludwig was already marshalling the A-L students into neat lines. Feliciano was bouncing about, yelling about dress-up and fashion designing.

When the students entered the lecture hall, they realised why Feliciano had seemed so excited. "Welcome to the seminar on cosplaying and roleplaying!" Kiku announced as he pulled up the presentation. "The first part of this will be dedicated to a lecture, and then we will get a little more interactive."

The girls started chattering excitedly. Some, like Kiri, Karen, and the other Ludwig Lusters, were debating about Ludwig's sex appeal in lederhosen.

Well, considering that Ludwig had sex appeal even when wearing a sack…

"That's right!" said German barked. "Take a seat. We will begin our lecture with roleplaying. Who here has ever roleplayed one of us Nations?"

Several people raised their hands.

"What about Original Characters?"

Several others raised their hands.

Kiku nodded. "And I'm assuming that these are on forums, Facebook, Livejournal, DeviantArt, or other websites, right?"

"You forgot Tumblr and Twitter!" Celeste called. "And Formspring."

"On the Internet, then," Kiku replied. "Are there people who _want_ to try roleplaying but have never done so?"

One or two people raised their hands.

Feliciano grinned. "Well, I think roleplaying isn't that bad, since you're pretending that you're one of us. So if you want to be any good at it, you have to try and get into our characters, right? See what makes us unique and everything!"

"Exactly," Kiku agreed. "Which is why you should play characters that you like enough to try to get into their minds, or characters you identify with personality-wise. Unfortunately, we have seen our fair share of slutty or dark roleplay accounts of Nations who are not characterised as slutty or dark."

"Those are so strange, don't you agree?" Feliciano added. "I mean, I think Arthur has his drinking and sleeping around issues, but he's not as bad as others. And he wouldn't become a prostitute."

"And seeing accounts of you as a heartless monster gets me a bit annoyed," Kiku said, nodding. "What we're saying is that we encourage you to get into our minds – it's the best way to get our characters right. In that same vein, then, it's a bad idea to try and play us completely differently. It might be a great idea for you, but others will not respect you for desecrating a character like that."

"Mind you, we're not saying that Arthur should be a virginal prude in roleplay," added Feliciano. "He's not exactly that innocent, with his pirate phase and everything. So he would know his way around the act and he might even like to do it once in a while – but he wouldn't pose naked for the camera and talk lewdly. You know, unless he's drunk."

"In short, moderation is key with those sorts of portrayals," Kiku finished.

Ludwig nodded. "Ja, let's move on. How many of the roleplayers here write long profiles for their accounts?"

Some people raised their hands – Kriss was one of them.

"A long profile doesn't necessarily mean a good character, but most of the time it does show that the roleplayer put time and effort into the profile. A good profile should give someone a general idea of the character. Warnings and preferences should also be noted." Ludwig paused. "IT IS ALSO EXTREMELY IMPORTANT FOR OTHER ROLEPLAYERS TO READ THE PROFILE BEFORE STARTING ANYTHING!" he barked, causing some students to cower in their seats. "Reading the profile is the best way to see if your character is compatible with their character. It will provide background information and give you a sense of what to expect. A bad roleplayer is one who doesn't bother looking at the profile and then, out of ignorance, says something extremely offensive as a starter."

"And yes, you must read _all _of it," Kiku added.

"Make sure people know your marks for out of character and in character speech," continued Ludwig, looking at his watch. "Do not omit those marks; if you wanted to say something perverted on your Roderich account and you leave out the markers, who knows what will happen."

"Keep action marks consistent, too," Kiku pointed out. "If you word actions a specific way, keep that consistent. Switching about makes others uncomfortable. And please avoid the first person in actions where you name the subject; that makes things too personal."

"Yeah, am I sucking _Ludwig_'s dick or am I sucking _your_ dick? There's a difference," Feliciano added, much to the GerIta shippers' delight. Ludwig turned red and facepalmed.

Kiku looked shiftily from side to side. "There are usually three styles of roleplay: literate, semi-lit, and script. Sometimes script is also known as 'illiterate', but that's a misnomer. You'd have to be literate to type something decipherable, correct?"

Ludwig changed the slide; he and Feliciano had been consistently changing slides throughout the lecture. "Literate is like writing fanfiction. You describe the actions without action marks and in complete sentences, and dialogue is quoted. Most good roleplayers prefer to use literate, because it provides more opportunity for body language and thoughts."

"But sometimes doing that takes too much time and thought," continued Kiku, "so the second-best format is semi-lit, where action and thoughts are described in complete sentences within action marks, and dialogue is unquoted."

"And for the beginners, the lazy, the tired, or the hyperactive, there's script," chirped Feliciano. "And you write that like you would write a play script! You know, unquoted dialogue, actions described in phrases, that sort of thing."

"For the most part, people use lit or semi-lit for serious roleplays, and script for cracky ones," Ludwig finished. He changed slides. "All right, onto roleplaying in general."

"First rule of roleplay – NEVER GODMODE UNLESS YOU'RE JOKING!" Feliciano exclaimed. "It takes the 'play' out of roleplay!"

"Second rule of roleplaying is to avoid perfect characters," Kiku added calmly, "but if you don't know that already, you will know it eventually and painfully."

"Third rule is to be courteous," finished Ludwig. "Don't stalk other roleplayers, ask the other roleplayer for permission before your character does something horrible to their character, don't do stupid things for attention – but I suppose this is the most commonly broken rule anyways, so…" he sighed. "Moving onto smut."

"Sometimes it seems as if smut's one of the only reasons to roleplay," Kiku pointed out, hiding a smile with his sleeve.

"But it loses charm fast if you don't know the basics," added Feliciano. "Hopefully most of us know what goes where."

"If not, ask Berwald and Tino. They do the Sexual Clarification seminars; they'll be scheduling another one during Project Roswell," Ludwig pointed out.

"More importantly, though, make sure the other person is comfortable with smut and with the terms you use." Kiku changed the slide. "Some people don't like seeing slang like 'cock' and 'pussy' –"

"Animal abuse!" exclaimed Feliciano randomly. Several students snickered.

Kiku sent his friend an odd look before continuing. "Other people don't like euphemisms like 'hard sex' and 'secret flower'."

"Ewwwwww, that sounds like a bad romance novel," Amanda Robinson whined.

"And still other people don't like using 'penis' and 'vagina' because that seems too technical," finished Kiku. "Know what the other person is comfortable with, and if they don't like any of them just be discreet and try not to describe the body parts themselves. That, or don't do the scene."

"Kinks!" Feliciano exclaimed as Kiku changed the slide once more. "Check with the other person before doing stuff like that!"

"Sometimes people will explicitly state which kinks they will or will not play," Kiku added. "Make sure you honour that."

"Believe it or not, there are people who don't like having their characters tied up in black leather and whipped," Ludwig deadpanned.

"Shush, Luddy, we all know you like that sort of stuff," Feliciano snickered. Ludwig glared. "Don't hurt me!"

Kiku sighed and changed the slide. "And I suppose we have to mention rape as well," he said. "Like everything else, ask permission first. Who knows, maybe your partner has had that happen to them and they don't want to go through the ordeal again. Like kinks, some people will say if they roleplay dub and non-con or not."

"More importantly, though, is discretion," finished Ludwig. "Would you have sex in public? Nein? Then don't roleplay it in public areas of the roleplaying board. That's what private messaging is for."

"Some people don't like seeing that sort of thing in their picture comments or threads," Feliciano agreed. "Also, for Facebook people – don't roleplay on pictures that tag multiple people, because the others will get photo notification spam and no one likes spam."

"So in summary," Kiku said, changing the slide once more, "be convincing, be polite, and be discreet. You're talking to other _people_ here – remember, please, that they have lives and issues separate from yours. Don't bug people for replies, don't ask too much of anyone, and you should probably be fine."

* * *

"We're deploying attack helicopters to Libya," Francis told Arthur at lunch.

"French Tigers?"

"Ouais. What about you?"

"I was thinking of sending Apaches," Arthur replied. "I was a bit disappointed with the results of the G8 summit, to be honest."

"I agree," Francis replied, twirling his fork. "But your boss seems to be very intent on aiding Libya."

"He's spending more on foreign aid than on domestic affairs," Arthur said bitterly. "He's slashing domestic programs so he can help everyone else!"

"Trying to be a hero, Artie?" Francis cackled. "You're too cute."

"I-I'm not trying to be a hero!" Arthur looked scandalised. "Look, Colonel Gaddafi is on the run, according to our intelligence, and he's been hiding in hospitals! We need to turn up the heat on this regime. It's got to end."

"I agree with you, but you must remember that this is extremely risky, l'Angleterre," Francis said, his expression unnaturally serious.

They continued to eat in silence for a few moments, and then Arthur spoke up again.

"Project Roswell starts next week. Are you anticipating it?"

"I am not looking forward to wearing that ridiculous yellow-and-orange outfit," Francis sniffed.

"I don't know; I think it suits you." Arthur paused. "You're ridiculous and the outfit's ridiculous, so it works."

"Ta gueule," retorted Francis.

Arthur laughed. "That's the best you can come up with, Frog? 'Shut up'?"

"Oh, don't tempt me." Francis rolled his eyes. "You know what? I heard that Alfred's going to try to prevent Yao from getting Pentagon contracts. I sometimes fear for that poor boy."

"If Yao gets miffed and calls in the debt…" Arthur trailed off, shuddering.

The two nations paused. "Adieu, la économie," Francis said after a moment, nodding.


	69. Into the Maze

**Part XIX**

"How did it go?" Sara Parker asked Andy Kirk at dinner. "No one got raptured today."

"I'd noticed," Andy replied, stubbing out his cigarette with a chuckle. Sara took a swig of vodka. "I'm still hurting from Elisabeta's frying pan."

"She did that?" Sara asked, pointing to the giant lump on Andy's head. He nodded, touching it gingerly.

"Yeah, she thought I was too close to Monaco."

"I thought Monaco could fend for herself; she lives with Francis, after all," Sara joked, laughing as Andy waved his cigarette butt threateningly at her. "Don't burn me, don't burn me!"

"Why would I? I'm reserving that for _other people_," Andy rolled his eyes and looked pointedly over at Faye, who was arguing with Alice Wang about something that had to do with America (since 'America' was the most commonly brought up word in their heated conversation). The FrUK and USUK fans were throwing fish and chips at each other.

Megan suddenly walked past, arguing with Taylor about something as well. Jennifer and Charlie followed, Jennifer snickering at something Charlie was saying.

"Look, they had legitimate reasons to drop the case, since there was no solid evidence. The nurses didn't run a physical exam; all they could testify about was the mental scarring. There aren't any camera feeds about the attack, Pirate Arthur proved unhelpful, and honestly, as bad as the act was it shouldn't have gone to trial," Megan argued.

"I can't believe you'd say that about your own friend's assault case," Taylor retorted.

"She could have even been fined for contempt of court!" Megan crossed her arms, frowning. "Everyone automatically believes she's innocent and that MMJ is guilty because they don't like him. I think he's a douche, but that's no reason to use the court system to punish him!"

"Megan, crimes like sexual assault often don't have enough evidence. That's the problem. By supporting the dismissal of Jennifer's case, you are asserting the patriarchal society that lets assault go by unpunished."

"I think he should have been punished, just not through the court system!"

"Does it even matter anymore?" Kitty Smith had arrived on the scene, waving a copy of the _Bled Chronicles_. "Look what's on page two! I didn't know Belgium had a sense of poetic justice."

"What'd she do?" Megan demanded.

"Assigned MMJ to the Rome-Wall. He's supposed to be the Rome-Wall's new counsellor."

"Oh, yeah," Taylor said, nodding. "Franklin says the Rome-Wall keeps on falling on the female students in Latin class." He snickered.

"Belgium told him that if he really was a good guy who just liked flirting a bit too much, then he should be able to teach the Rome-Wall how to flirt without resorting to falling on his students," Kitty continued, grinning widely. "Her awesome points just went up."

"She was awesome to begin with," Taylor declared. "Belgian waffles are the best."

* * *

"I want to know how the cloning process works," Arthur told Eledhwen on her visit the night before Project Roswell started. They walked past the library; several third semester students were arguing over the differences between the passé composé and the imparfait.

"No, I'm sure Francis said to use the imparfait for the weather," Kiryll Nightroad was insisting. "I mean, it's in 'what-o-lampe', after all."

"Whato what?" Aki Chung-Feng demanded. "I think I slept through that lesson."

Birgit Kurvits snickered. "Francis's memorisation device for when to use the imparfait, duh," she explained. "What-o-lampe: weather, habitual actions, age, time, ongoing actions, location, appearance, mental conditions, physical conditions, and emotional conditions."

"Snap, that's a lot to remember," Nick Jenkins groaned. "Okay, what about the passé composé?"

"Oi, Miss Chung-Feng," Arthur called. "You still haven't come up with a poem."

"Damn, it slipped my mind," Aki replied, looking flustered. "I'll… uh…"

"Forfeit?" Arthur asked, smirking.

"NO! I'll get you a poem by… um… Friday!"

Arthur snorted and walked away, Eledhwen in tow. "Who the hell is she?" Sakura Crystal Kirkland demanded, randomly poking her head out of the library to glare at the _elleth_.

"A PPC Agent, _duh_," Agent Anora Jensai replied snootily. She fluctuated in size depending on the day of the week, it seemed. Sometimes she would be far too big; other times she would be far too small.

"What the hell; why would Pay-Per-Click need Agents?" Sakura demanded. She screamed when Ronil the Mini-Aragog popped up on top of Anora's head and leered at her.

"Does she haveses toasterses?" Ronil crooned. Sakura backed up, paling.

"Ronil, don't frighten the poor fangirl," Anora hissed.

"But I wantses toasterses," pouted Ronil.

"You had a toaster. Where did it go?"

"Accidentally dropses into Lake Ericses, it didses," replied Ronil. "Shockses the mermaidses."

Anora groaned and facepalmed. "I'll get you another one on the black market if you stop staring at Sakura as if she's your next dinner – AAAUGH!" the Mini-Aragog had disregarded that, since it had jumped from the dragon's head to the fangirl's head, clicking its pincers happily.

"Toasterses, toasterses! Ronil wantses toasterses!"

The third-semester students looked oddly at the spectacle at the library doors; several arachnophobes tore down the hall screaming about spiders. Arthur and Eledhwen continued in their walk down the hall, Arthur making sure to avoid every trap that the Anglophiles had laid for him.

That didn't stop him from slipping about in drool, though.

"This is _disgusting_," the Briton grumbled as the_ elleth_ helped him up from another embarrassing slip. "Fangirl drool. Alfred says they have cooties."

"Maybe you ought to look at it more closely," Eledhwen replied innocently. "I have heard the wildest stories about people catching sicknesses from fangirl drool."

Arthur huffed. "Still, do you have any idea how to clone someone? We need to physically separate Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh before they bring the school down with their problems."

"Therapy hasn't worked?"

"He refuses to go to therapy, the ungrateful brat."

Eledhwen hid a smile behind her hand. "I have never heard anyone call their Course Coordinator a brat before," she giggled.

"But he is!" Arthur crossed his arms. "He's apparently so busy that he never has time for therapy, but he has time to sleep with the nurses – speaking of which, has Takara given birth yet?"

Eledhwen arched both eyebrows. "Last time I checked, no. And you are a very blunt fellow, I must say."

"Unlike the Frog, I don't beat around the bush." Arthur adjusted his collar importantly. "You still haven't answered my original question."

"I would not be able to comprehend the process, if I knew," Eledhwen replied, her grey eyes sad. "Pardon my inability to understand modern science. I still have not figured out the technical details of the Remote Activator."

Arthur groaned. "Hopeless. Bloody hopeless."

"Perhaps my partner can enlighten you?" Eledhwen asked, shrugging regally.

"I'll ask her after Project Roswell finishes," Arthur sighed. "Surely it can wait."

* * *

Project Roswell opened on a Tuesday morning, and was scheduled to last until June – or whenever the students found the Effie Tower. On first glance, the maze looked simple. The tower was in the middle, perfectly visible at any point outside (and presumably inside) the giant hedge maze.

The students were sure that they could find the tower on the first day, and therefore packed very little.

"Watch this. We're gonna be first! TEAM SPADES!" cheered Karin Guarez as they lined up in front of the entrance marked with a blue spade. A few paces away at the Diamonds entrance, the Alex Inquisition stuck their tongues out at the Spades.

Everyone was dressed in team colours – red for Hearts, blue for Spades, green for Clubs, and yellow for Diamonds. The Kings, Queens, and Jacks were gathered at the entrances as well, wishing the students luck.

"You're gonna need it!" Alfred cackled, swinging his pocket-watch. Arthur sipped his tea without comment.

"There are a lot of traps and plotholes," Yao warned. "It'll be like Wonderland, aru."

"Aaugh, Wonderland," Merka whined, shuddering.

Over at the Hearts entrance, Kriss was bemoaning the same thing. "Will the sky turn purple when we get in?" she asked Kiku, as Akiko restrained Lucy Robinson-Honda from tackling the Japanese.

"It might turn Bled, if you stumble into a badfic," Kiku replied enigmatically.

"What!" Carolina and Kriss exclaimed simultaneously.

"Good luck, Carol!" Bonnie called from the stands. The other students were there to see them off, too. Mariam Webb had promised Kitty and Anita to constantly update the chart while they were gone, but Kitty had predicted that when they returned everyone would have purportedly had sex with penguins.

Or there would be GerIta slash written all over the chart.

"Don't forget to write!" Jillian the Pikachu joked. She sat next to Wake, who was pretending to be a helicopter.

"Take care, Karen!" Lucas called from the Angelic section of the stands. "I'll pray for your safe return."

Karen waved, snickering. After begging, bribery, and blackmail, she had managed to procure the tapes of Lucas and Dirk from that fateful Friday night. Anita drove a hard bargain, though – Karen had spent nearly two days in the kitchen baking her the demanded amount of cookies. Aloisio Guerra had dropped by halfway through and attempted to steal one. The cherub was now in the Hospital Wing getting his wings reattached.

"Aw, you're cute," she hollered. Cain snickered.

"Just admit it, Lucas. In fact, ask her out," the sidekick Angel advised. "You don't have to covet her, you know."

"Nah, he's too proud," Michael Arch dismissed, grinning from ear to ear. Susanna Black-White giggled.

"It'd be cute if Lucas did," she said innocently. "Don't you agree, Zari?" The mermaid giggled as well and nodded, patting Docter Xanax Uvu, the bipedal rabbit who bunked with quarter-owl Anya Mae. Anya had to constantly suppress her urges to eat her roommate and to regurgitate her food as pellets.

Said part-owl was currently dozing under Hasegawa S, the China-lusting half-desk. Exactly how a person could have a child with a desk shall forever remain a mystery.

But back to the students about to enter the maze. Mr. Allen suddenly strode onto the field in front of the entrances, carrying his Bled megaphone. "All right, everyone will enter at the sound of Vash's rifle." He gestured to the yellow-clad jack, who was carrying a giant rifle as always. Vash aimed upwards. "I notice that many of you are very ill-equipped for this maze. Luckily, you might be able to sustain yourself within the maze – you just have to know which plants are edible and where the IKEA is located."

"There's an IKEA located in the maze?" Yuki-rin demanded incredulously.

"Berwald donated it; don't ask me," Mr. Allen replied. "Provided that you don't get yourself trapped in the parallel dimension or something, I would guess that you can finish the maze within a week. But there are several people here with horrible senses of navigation –" he stared at Megan, who looked sheepish. Within the first week of school, the alien had gotten lost seventy times and had to be rescued from rogue Mochis. "So if we factor in getting horrendously lost, getting killed, and having horrible navigational skills… then I'd say you'll need the rest of the month of May."

Several Staff members snickered.

"The Staff members will intervene and guide you whenever it's obvious that you can't get out of a situation on your own. You must only ask Staff members on your team; anyone else will mislead you. Make sure you are always dressed in team colours if you want help; the staff members will be dressed in team colours." Mr. Allen paused. "Anything else?"

Tony arrived in a hovercraft, causing Lucia Verdas to squeal and nearly pass out. "Answer the stupid questions, don't pay attention to Ameriwhale –"

"What did Ameriwhale ever do to you?" Eva Danielson wondered. Tony glared.

"And make sure you have lots of markers on hand. There are Pict Aliens hungry for colours in the maze," he continued, not bothering to answer Eva's question.

"What was that thing about the questions?" Hotaru asked sleepily.

Tony pretended to look thoughtful. "Whenever you get to a fork in the road, you get to answer questions. Some are easy; others are harder. They'll ask you anything and everything –"

"Even about languages?" Jodie Smith demanded.

"What part of 'everything' don't you understand, fucker?" Tony demanded. "Yes, they will ask you questions about various languages."

"What if you don't know the language?"

"Honestly, you thought I wouldn't think of that?" the alien scoffed. "The question machine can do facial recognition. It matches your face to your registration form."

"Any other concerns?" Mr. Allen called, as Workbitch arrived with Shinbun and Janice.

"If you get hurt, what happens?" Ema Skye asked.

"Use one of these," Workbitch replied, as Shinbun opened a crate.

"WHITE FLAGS?" screamed Mitsuki Horenake, bouncing excitedly.

Feliciano grabbed some and started handing them out to the Hearts. "When you get hurt, you wave a white flag, ve! These are special flags; once they get waved we'll know that you're hurt! Use it wisely, though! If you're waving it around as a joke, we won't come!"

"What if you surrender?"

"You'd usually surrender if you get hurt, ne?" Feliciano tilted his head to the side. The students thought he had a point, so they pocketed their flags.

Workbitch smiled at Jennifer as Mr. Allen explained what to do at the Effie Tower. "Good luck," the secretary whispered; Jennifer hugged him.

"If I die in there, I just want to say in advance that I love you," she mumbled.

"I love you, too," Workbitch replied, kissing her forehead.

Vash fired the rifle. Mr. Allen wished them good luck (they would need it), and the students entered the maze.

* * *

As soon as they were clear of the first leafy corridor, the Spades split into teams of two.

"Shit, this place is already starting to be a mindfuck," Merka complained. She and Jennifer were a team; Megan and Taylor were another team. "I swear I think there's something following us."

They walked up to the first fork. There were, as promised, question machines. "You guys, take this path. We'll take that one," Karin Guarez said from where she was teamed up with Anastasia Debby. "Whatever happened to the other suits?"

"Dunno. We'll find them eventually, I hope," Yuki-rin whimpered from next to Luna Correa. "This place is freaking me out already."

Jennifer and Merka headed to the leftmost path. "What is the first present that England gave America in the Storage Cleaning arc?" the question machine asked.

"Ooh, that's easy!" squealed Merka. "A set of wooden soldiers!"

"Correct." They stepped onto the path. Behind them, Lucia accidentally answered her question wrong and fell into a pit, screaming. Eva dove in after her.

"Damn, where'd they go?" Jennifer asked, turning around to watch the mayhem. The other Spades were hyperventilating already.

"I don't know, but where did _we_ go?" Merka demanded. Jennifer looked back. Her eyes bulged.

They were standing at the edge of a forest.

* * *

"How did we discover the IKEA this fast?" Karen DuLay cackled as the Hearts sat down to a late breakfast of Swedish meatballs. "Man, I love Berwald. Not as much as I love Ludwig, but still."

"I still wonder how the IKEA got in here," Kriss said thoughtfully. A few paces away, Huskie and Mirabelle were bouncing on one of the beds.

"We could play hide and go seek!" giggled Lucy.

"We need to get to the tower as soon as possible," Carolina replied matter-of-factly. "Sorry to rain on your parade, but that's the truth."

"Oh, well," Kriss replied, leaning against her chair. "Wait a minute, how did we get to this section of IKEA?"

"Shit, I forgot how easy it is to get lost in IKEA," Karen cursed.

"Oh, so _that_'s why they put one in here," Kiri Olaveja sighed.

The Hearts started panicking. "What should we do? Split up?" Jodie Smith asked.

"Stay together! Safety in numbers, you know!" Carolina snapped.

"But we won't get anywhere! The exit could be anywhere!" Akiko Arihima protested. She found herself suddenly on the third floor. "Dammit!"

"Akiko!" screamed Roksana. "Where are you?"

"Already one person lost," Gregory Bob Walton noted. "This can't bode well."

"We're all gonna die!" sobbed Lucy. "They'll carve on my gravestone 'Here lies Lucy Robinson-Honda. She died in IKEA'. How pathetic is that? And I never got to kiss Kiku!"

"No one ever got to kiss their Lust Object, shut up," Karen sniffed.

"At least an Angel likes you!" Kiri retorted. "And you've been hoarding Luddy from me!"

"Have not! He's been avoiding me whenever he can!"

"STOP TEARING THIS GROUP APART!" Kriss declared melodramatically, pretending to faint. Emmanuella Escatara snickered. "CAN WE PLEASE NOT FIGHT?"

Pause. "Good idea," Carolina Brown said breezily. "Let's split into groups of two or three. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

* * *

"That damn island!" whined Ema Skye, flopping down onto the sand. The other Diamonds bemoaned their bad luck as well, although Charlie Tenterden had taken the opportunity to strip to his boxers and splash in the water. Ameriwhale was swimming nearby; a splurt of water appeared from time to time to remind the Diamonds that they were not alone.

"I get it," Sally Cruz said, sighing. "I get why the Axis and Allies hate being on this island."

"Won't there be a Chinatown somewhere nearby?" Cristiana Moretti asked, tilting her head to the side. "Not that I want to go to Chinatown… I want my tomatoes…"

"Didn't you pack tomatoes?" Sara Parker asked, taking a swig from her flask. She had brought several more bottles of booze, and was greedily hiding her stash from everyone else.

"Not enough to last me on a deserted island," Cristiana sniffed.

"Maybe we should wave the white flag," Shannon Price suggested.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Alexandria Russell snapped. "WE MUST PERSEVERE!"

"Let's find that Chinatown, though, I'm starving," suggested Alexandra Reynolds.

"Charlie, get your ginger ass out of the water; we're going inland," called Alexandria Peterson. Charlie complied, strutting back to the girls sashaying his hips slyly.

"Where's Kiril?" Sara Parker asked randomly.

"Hiding in the forest," Ema replied.

"Why?" Mitsuki asked. "Oh, right, vampire." She shuddered. "What if he gets hungry and tries to eat one of us?"

"I already asked him about it. He has three days' worth of blood, and he hopes to find something to eat – _ew_." They had just come across Kiril feasting on a poor vole. "You know that thing's got germs in its bloodstream, right?"

"I need to preserve my blood supply," Kiril replied, wiping some stray chocolate that had dripped from his eyes. "Are we going to search for the Chinatown?"

"Yeah," Sally Cruz said, trying to hide behind Sara Parker. "Come on, then."

The Diamonds headed deeper inland.

* * *

The Clubs were the only group to not have had experienced any serious spatial distortions in the maze so far.

"I hear screaming everywhere," Sabrina mumbled, stamping a hoof nervously. "What if we come across something really nasty?"

"The nastiest things in Hetalia are probably Norway's trolls," Shelby retorted. "Or those American Mochis."

"Didn't they recently learn how to sprout random body parts?" Lydiacatfish asked. "I saw murika sprout a random pair of legs the other day. It was gross."

"Well, I guess it makes Mochi sex more interesting," sierra akoti joked. Everyone else cringed. "Okay, that was bad."

They approached another question machine. "What was the title of the Chopin piece that Austria plays at the end of episode 6 of the anime?"

"Shiiiiiiiit," hissed Mike Hawk. "Who knows this one?"

"I know it wasn't Grande Valse or that Prelude in E minor from Opus 28," Tori Troutman said, frowning. "Damn it, what was the song…."

"Da-daaaa, da-de dum dum…" William Ofritas hummed. "Da-daaaaaa, de-da-de-di-dum-di-da-de-dum-dum!"

"You are not helping," snarled Tori.

"It's in E-flat Major! I know that!" Franklin declared suddenly. "And it's in Opus 9!"

"But the title! It's cool that you know the opus, but we need the title!"

"I don't think it's a prelude or a waltz," Franklin muttered.

"Shit, we're dead," Mike muttered.

"Don't be such a downer!" cried Kitty. "Come on… Austria played that at night, on the beach of the deserted island…"

"Night… no, not sonata… not 'Clair de Lune'; that's Claude Debussy…" muttered Franklin.

Tori suddenly screamed. "EUREKA! I know! It's Nocturne in E-flat Major!"

The Clubs raced past the machine, eager to move on. "I can see the tower," Anita said dreamily. "It's getting closer and…"

They suddenly found themselves at the edge of Alfred's Heroic Abyss™.

"Oh, _shit_," Mike muttered.


	70. This Wasn't in the Plan

**Notes:** If any PPC Boarders are reading this, I would like to know if any of them are interested in helping the Staff and students of IAHF fend off the inevitable invasion. If so, please let me know the Agents' names and give me either a brief description or a link to their Wiki page. Thank you!

* * *

**Part XX**

"We are not calling this the Schlilithffen Plan!" Lilith snapped at her cabinet. Said cabinet was composed of six other Mary Sues. One was a fallen angel vampire with a set of cat ears, a rainbow tail, every possible ahoge sticking out of her head, Urple and Crimsun eyes, and hair that looked as if she had dumped numerous buckets of paint on her head. Another had Crimsun eyes and hair, a Blello shirt, an Urple skirt, and was squealing random bits of fangirl Japanese. Still another had Blello-and-Urple hair, amazing Technicolor eyes, and wore an Urple shirt. The last three didn't have horrible eye-and-hair colour combinations, but one looked like a happier version of Belarus, another was a cross between France and England, and the last one had ruby slippers.

"Like, you know it would be totally funny," said the first Mary Sue – she was the personification of a place called Alazak, and she called herself America Sarah Liberty Freedom Democracy John Adams Braginskiy Five Year Plan Stalin Sputnek Kawaii Sugoi Sparkle Yume Bukkake Desu Kai Vodka Pasta Kiku Manga Porche Darkness Flying Bald Eagle Wasignton. That name alone had spawned a giant sign in the shape of George Washington; currently the Wasignton was acting as a giant lawn decoration at IAHF. But that was irrelevant.

"It's not funny, America with the very long name," grumbled Lilith. "But what ideas do the rest of you have?"

"Ooh, wouldn't it be kawaii desu if I could go first?" the second Mary Sue insisted. She was the personification of Ontario, but her name was Ayumu Ishida. "I could meet Mattie and Eduard – THEY'RE SO KAWAII SUGOI DESU DESU DESU!"

"SHUT UP!" whined America with the very long name. "YOU DON'T WANT PUNCTUATION RAIN, DO YOU?"

"NOOOOOOOOO! PUNCTUATION RAIN ISN'T KAWAII DESU!"

"Come onnnnn, let's not worry about punctuation rain," whined the third Mary Sue, also known as Cierra Ai Butterfly Kawaii Sparkly Desu Bunny Nakamutohanachan. "Let's worry about, like, me getting back to Atlantis!"

"It's not all about you, bitch!" snapped America with the very long name.

"Why are you dressed like a whore?" Cierra demanded.

"Why are you such a whore?" retorted America. "I mean, you go through four fandoms! Is Russia like not good enough for you or something?"

"Shut up; you somehow got raped by Italy and Germany at the same time!"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MEH TRAGIC PAST!"

Lilith facepalmed. Her cabinet was composed of idiots. Bloody_ idiots_.

"Can we please get back to the matter at hand?" Michaylah Arlovskaya asked sweetly, twirling a knife. Just because she was the better half of Belarus didn't mean she didn't know how to use a knife. The others stared at her and chuckled sheepishly.

"Y-yeah, let's… Belarus is scary…"

"Thank you, Michaylah," Lilith ground out. "Since no one has any other suggestions for the plan, I propose we put it into action immediately." She stabbed a dagger into the presentation board. "First wave of attack will be through a bad crossover plothole."

"I'M RUNNING THAT, BABY!" Cierra cackled.

"Dorothy Sparklesbury will be helping you, remember that," Lilith replied.

"AWWW, SNAP! I WANTED TO BE A HERO!"

"Do not channel that annoying American." Lilith yanked out the dagger and held it threateningly at Cierra's throat. "You got that? If you goof off, I will make sure your pretty neck is slit."

Cierra gulped. "Aye aye, captain," she mumbled.

"Perfect," Lilith drawled, striding back to the presentation board. "Next wave of attack will be through slash spirits. You –" she pointed to the France-and-England hybrid, also known as Cassie Kawaiicrystal Marianne Bonnefoy-Kirkland, "will be overseeing that operation."

"Yes, sir," Cassie replied, saluting her. "And Miss Ishida will be helping me."

"It's Ishida-san!" Ayumu insisted. "Come on, come on! Try some Japanese, desu ka?"

"I shall make sure not to ask you for help when I learn the language," Cassie deadpanned.

Lilith smirked. "Last wave of attack is when everyone else comes in – Mary Sues, Gary Stus, Airy Oohs, what-have-you. Michaylah Arlovskaya, you and America will be in charge of that."

"When are you coming in?" Michaylah asked.

Lilith's eyes glinted. "I will come in on my own time," she drawled. "I have some other things to tend to."

* * *

"This is freaky, this is freaky, this is freaky," moaned Lucia as they traversed through a dark tunnel. "I don't like it, nope, not at all. Definitely not enjoying this –"

"Shush, what if something hears you?" Eva Danielson hissed. "If only we had a flashlight!"

"Damn it, I left the bioluminescent plankton back in Lake Eric!" whined Lucia. "Just keep walking, just keep walking…"

"Why are you so scared of an underground tunnel anyways?" Eva wondered. "Haven't you ever been in underwater tunnels?"

"It's icky underground," Lucia whimpered. "At least underwater you're still in water."

Eva rolled her eyes. "If you had been a dwarf…"

"Dwarves have beards. Ew."

"I'm pretty sure the girl dwarves didn't."

"Have you ever seen a girl dwarf?"

"Um… good question."

The two continued to walk in the dark tunnel. "Is that light up ahead?" Lucia wondered.

"Don't tell me we've walked into a mine or something," Eva countered.

"Ooh, what if we ended up in Gringotts? Or like… the other side of the world? Or – aaaaugh!"

"LUCIA, STOP FALLING INTO RANDOM HOLES!" Eva screamed, diving into the abyss after her mermaid friend. There was a clank and a clatter, and the two Spades suddenly found themselves rolling downhill in a cart.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Lucia screamed at the same time. "I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS AN UNDERGROUND TUNNEL SYSTEM UNDERNEATH THE STADIUM! THIS IS FUCKING SCARY!"

"Well, the Belgians had a complex system of tunnels that had been effective against invasions right up to World War One," Eva pointed out.

"DAMN IT, BELGIUM!"

"And there's also all of the mining tunnel systems, which are a lot more unsafe – oh, and the Viet Cong tunnels, don't forget those, too –"

"EVA, YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

* * *

Sabrina, Azure, Neira, and Sierra had been the Clubs unfortunate enough to fall into the abyss. The others clung to the edge, trying to look for a way across.

"The red, white, and blue are making my eyes hurt," Shelby groaned. "It's so… bright."

"Do you think we should retrace our steps?" Tori wondered. "There's nothing we can use…"

"Are you sure? Maybe… there's got to be a way across. I mean, how did those Spades get there?"

The others goggled at Kitty's question, but when they looked across they saw some figures in blue on the opposite side. "That looks like Yuki-rin and Scylla," Anita observed, squinting.

"And there's Karin and Anastasia. How did they get there?" Kitty stood up and started yelling. "HEY, YOU GUYS! CAN YOU HELP US GET ACROSS THE ABYSS?"

"They're not going to help you!" cried Lydia. "They're Spades!"

"Damnit!" Kitty flopped down on the grass and stared up at the sky. Already, the day was ending. "It's getting cold."

"Maybe we should wave the flag and try to get help," Franklin suggested.

"Or we could go back and take a different path."

"No! I'm sure we can get across this abyss. But how?" Kitty's brows furrowed in thought. "Did anyone think to bring rope?"

"Call me a geek, but I did," Loki said suddenly, pulling out some sort of silvery rope from her bag. "Remember the crossover plothole last semester? I found this lying around in the Balrog's abyss."

"What the heck is that?" Mike Hawk demanded.

"Elvish rope!" exclaimed Franklin. "Made of _hithlain_!"

"And what the fuck is _that_?"

"You wouldn't understand," Tori replied mischievously. "Loki, did you find any cloaks or _lembas_ with this rope?"

"Why didn't you tell us you had it?" Franklin added, reverently stroking the silvery rope.

"Guess what, I do have cloaks and _lembas_," the Shadow demon said, smirking. "I just never thought we'd ever need them –"

"Liar! If you didn't need them, you wouldn't have brought them! And how come they were only by the Balrog's abyss?"

"There weren't any hobbits around; I suppose the Balrog had a hankering for hobbit?" Loki shrugged. "Their loss, our gain –"

"That's just mean. What if the Balrog ate Frodo?"

"Can we stop nerding about Lord of the Rings and try to figure out how to put the rope to good use?" Kitty demanded.

Loki grinned. "Okay, so who thinks they're strong?"

Mike raised his hand.

"Kay, then, Mike! You can hold the rope for me. I'll swing across and tie the rope to that rock over there."

"Shit, how much do you weigh, man? Why can't Anita cross?"

"Anita might not make it, since she's even shorter than me! Now come on!" Loki grabbed one end; Mike grabbed the other.

"Some of us should make sure Loki doesn't drag Mike to his death," suggested Tori. Kitty and Franklin immediately grabbed Mike's feet, weighing him down.

"All right, then! Here we go! AAAAAAAAAAAAHEAAAAAAHEAAAAAH!" With a Tarzan-like yell, the Shadow demon launched herself across the abyss. Maybe it was because of her demon powers or something, but somehow Loki got to the other side. Having hidden horns does come in handy sometimes.

She quickly scrambled up and tied the rope to a nearby rock. "All right, who's next?" she called.

Over at the other side, the Clubs looked at each other. "Um… what?" Anita asked. "If we swing over, then who…"

"Oh, _duhhhhh_." Mike strutted over to another convenient rock and tied the rope to that. "It's almost as if they expected us to carry rope."

"Or industrial-strength pasta or something," muttered Franklin. "Anyways, now that we have both sides secure… how do we get across?" The rope wasn't stretched across in a straight, zero-slope line; it had a bit of a slant to it.

"Tightrope walking," replied Tori as if she had expected it all along. "Or, for the uncoordinated, some sort of zip-line." She took off her jacket and slung it over the rope, grabbing onto the ends. "See?"

"How is this rope gonna hold our weight?" complained Lydia. "I don't trust it."

"It's Elvish rope. Trust it," snapped Franklin. "Tori, you're first, then."

"Here goes nothing…" Tori gasped, before taking a running leap and swinging herself across.

* * *

"Oh, lovely," grumbled Jennifer for the umpteenth time that day. Or, more appropriately, night. Dusk had fallen in the forest; bats and nocturnal birds flew everywhere. "We're bloody lost."

"I'm sure we're not lost," Merka said bracingly. "I mean…"

"We've walked past that rotting stump for the tenth time already. Give it up, Merk. We're lost."

"How did you know it's the same stump?"

"It has the same spade marking on it."

The two girls paused and stared at the stump. "Damn, is that a good sign?" Merka asked, shuddering. "I still get the feeling that something's watching us."

Sure enough, something that looked like a Mochi bounced past. "Aiee!" Jennifer gasped, hiding behind Merka.

"Silly Jennifer, that's only Endland. And there's murika. Maybe they're trying to make sure we're not lost."

"But we are. HEY ENDLAND! CAN YOU GET US OUT OF THIS FOREST?" The Special Relationship Mochis seemed to be deaf. "ENDLAND! MURIKA!"

"ENDLAND! MURIKA!"

"Maybe we're hallucinating!" Jennifer gasped, clutching her head. "We're seeing things! Mirages! Why me?"

"Come on, it can't be that bad, could – oh, bugger." They had suddenly seen a Bled-coloured light up ahead. "Bugger, bloody buggering buggity bugger!"

"Merka, are you channelling George VI again?"

Merka wasn't listening. "Shit, shit, shit, shit! Fuck, fuck, fuckin' fuck, fuck buggering buggity bugger! Buggity, buggity, fuck arse! Balls, shit –"

"Merka, shut up for a second! There's someone there!" Jennifer tugged her suddenly foul-mouthed partner over to the light, squinting as they approached. "It's… it smells like strawberries!"

"Fuckin' strawberries!" screeched Merka, flapping about. "Fuckin' willy, balls, shit, and fuck, and… tits."

Jennifer sighed. "Thanks, Merk, that was very helpful."

"You're welcome!" Merka exclaimed. "I've been dying to do that!"

The two fangirls inched forward, towards the Bled-coloured light. "It looks like a crossover plothole," Merka whispered suddenly. "But there's something wrong about it."

"Yeah…" Jennifer shielded her eyes. "I think it's that extra colour in the middle."

"You can tell there's another colour?"

Jennifer squinted and then closed her eyes. "Yeah, it's like… beyond magenta."

Merka clapped both hands to her face. "Oh my god. That can't be good. Remember? There are normal crossover plotholes and bad crossover plotholes! Maybe we're looking at a –"

"Good evening, my dears! Have no fears! The Red Malice is here; you won't shed a tear!" someone cackled. Jennifer and Merka looked at each other fearfully.

A woman stepped out of the blinding glow of the bad crossover plothole. For all intents and purposes she looked like Meiko, one of the first generation Japanese Vocaloids. But she was also dressed in a red dress with a bloodstained white apron, and carried a sharp-looking sword.

"That looks like Kriss's Halloween outfit!" Merka whimpered.

"IT'S THE RED ALICE!" cried Jennifer, turning deathly pale and nearly pissing her pants out of fear.

The Red Alice (because she honestly didn't seem to act like Meiko anymore) laughed evilly, red eyes mad with glee.

"Come closer, little darlings!" she called, before running towards them with her sword. Jennifer and Merka screamed, turned about, and ran away.

"Why are all the crazy knife-wielding people first to come out of crossover plotholes?" Jennifer demanded as they ran, occasionally tripping over roots and slamming into low branches. Damn forest being so unhelpful. Jennifer was certain that the trees were purposefully confusing them, even. The crimson-clad madwoman chased them, hacking off tree limbs in her pursuit. Strangely enough, the trees were oozing blood instead of sap.

"I don't know, but let's talk once we lose her!" Merka screamed as they jumped across a small creek and continued to run. "I'm losing my breath!"

"Come on, come on! Just pretend we're running around the track!" Jennifer cried. "Don't… MERKA!" Merka had gotten caught in a set of blue chains. Jennifer screamed, racing over to try and untangle her friend.

"It's no use, little fool; she's been trapped by my tools," another voice resounded. Jennifer turned to see – oh, who else? Of course it was Kaito as the Blue Alice, only he was dressed in a blue suit with a blue top hat. Jennifer took a few steps back, shaking from head to toe.

The chains wound around Merka like shining blue snakes; that thought caused Jennifer to scream and run.

"JENNIFER!" Merka howled after her. "JENNIFER, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"I'M GOING TO GET HELP!" Jennifer cried, even though her first thought was to put as much distance between her and those snakelike chains as possible. She stumbled on through the forest, tears blurring her vision. Had she left Merka to her death? She didn't want to know.

Jennifer wasn't sure how long she had been running, but suddenly she found herself dashing through a set of doors. She paused, and looked around at the flat-packed Swedish furniture all around her. The Hearts had barricaded themselves in IKEA, it seemed.

"You guys!" she gasped. "The Red Alice is on the loose!"

Kriss popped up. "What?" she demanded, but moments later an enraged red Vocaloid came barging into the store, waving her sword wildly. Behind her dripped a trail of blood.

The Hearts screamed.

* * *

The four fallen Clubs found themselves on a breakneck cart ride through some underground caverns. Sabrina and sierra had thrown up several times throughout the entire ride.

The cart ride abruptly ended, causing the Clubs to be tossed out of the mining carts (momentum was a beautiful thing) towards what seemed to be a solid rock wall. But the collision never came – they seemed to have fallen _through_ the wall into… a storage closet?

"This is fucked up. This is the most fucked up day I have ever experienced," Sabrina declared as she staggered to her feet.

"Oh, _hello there_," whistled a new voice. What appeared to be Alfred came strutting out from behind a crate. The only problem was that he had cat ears and was winking at them. "Welcome to the parallel Hetalia world, ladies!"

Behind him stood two Spades – Lucia and Eva. They were talking to parallel Francis number 23.

"H-how do we get out of here?" whispered Neira to Azure. The cat girl flicked her tail and shrugged, before stretching out on a crate and falling asleep. She had been long overdue for a cat nap.

"Gee, _thanks_, Azure. So helpful!" whined sierra akoti.

Meanwhile, Lucia and Eva were trying to figure out how to escape the parallel dimension, but Francis wasn't being very helpful.

"You should take a closer look at how we escape into the normal dimension," the cat-eared Frenchman suggested, sprawling out on the ground and drawing figures onto the floor with a piece of chalk. "There's usually a plothole or a portal or something. And I think you still have to answer questions in this place. I forgot."

"Great, even you don't know how you escape," Eva sniffled. "We're gonna be stuck here forever."

Parallel Francis yawned, but suddenly the phone rang. Eva, Luciya, and the four Clubs with parallel Alfred looked up, startled. Parallel Francis stood up, walked over to the phone, and picked up.

"Hello? Right, hello, normal moi. Yes, I get it. We'll be there momentarily. Oh, right, there are students here. How do we get them out? Oh, okay, so she'll help? Merci." He hung up and shook parallel Antonio awake. "The school's under attack."

"Under attack?" everyone else echoed.

"Yes, there are bad crossover characters running amok. Several of them are in the maze, but there are some rogue SatW Nations disrupting the rest of the school. Normal Francis says to call the Pict Princess to send in a spaceship to escort you lot back to the maze."

"Where will we be dropped off?"

"The IKEA. You will land on the roof." Parallel Francis was already dialing the Pict Princess. "Your Monochromatic Highness? Yes, it's parallel Francis number twenty-three. I'm under orders to report to the main school, but I have students down here. Could you pick them up for me? Ah, merci beaucoup. Au revoir." He hung up again. "She will be here in a few minutes."

Sure enough, a few minutes later a giant white-green blob crashed through the side of the storage closet. The gangplank lowered and out strode several Pict Aliens and their Princess, floating in her green bubble.

"Greetings," the Pict Princess said, curtseying to parallel Francis. "We have come to take the students."

* * *

Walking, walking, and guess what – more walking. The Diamonds straggled along on the island, heading deeper and deeper inland. For how long they had been walking, they honestly had no idea. Charlie looked about to collapse on the spot.

"What was that?" Sally Cruz demanded suddenly.

"What was what?" Alexandra Reynolds asked.

"That noise. That moaning noise."

Pause. "No idea," the others chorused.

"Maybe Yao moved his Chinatown," complained Alexandria Russell. "It didn't take Italy this long to get there, I'm sure."

"Time is deceptive," Sara Parker said sagely. "Perhaps –" she suddenly cut off, as the aforementioned moaning grew louder and louder.

"Sounds like more than one person," Shannon Price pointed out. She paused. "Shit, maybe we shouldn't check it out."

"They're probably along our path, so why not?" Kiril Loris grumbled, still snacking on his vole. "Aah, animal blood really doesn't fill you up. It's like snacks for humans… can't exactly make a decent meal out of animals."

"But you can't use us!" whined Mitsuki Horenake. "I mean, we're your teammates!"

Three figures suddenly popped up from the bushes – three oddly familiar and yet so very different figures.

"Why, that's Harry, Ron, and Hermione!" Alexandria Peterson exclaimed. "But… they look half-dressed…"

"Whazzup bitches!" Hermione exclaimed loudly as the not-Trio trained their wands on them. "If you got the money, I'll turn on the affection! Come on!"

The students looked at each other. "What the heck is going on?" Cristiana demanded.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Harry shouted, but everyone ducked before the green light hit them.

"Shit! I don't think they're in their right minds!" Ema Skye grabbed Sally Cruz's hand and tugged her along. "LET'S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

The Diamonds ran off, not daring to look back. Jets of light zoomed past them; for some reason the not-Trio had terrible aim and kept on missing.

"You can't run forever, losers!" Ron hollered after them.

"Someone's opened the crossover plothole again?" gasped Shannon as they took an abrupt left turn, trying to throw the not-Trio off track.

"I think, but they're not acting like themselves," Alexandria Peterson pointed out. "They're so much more aggressive."

"And Hermione seemed to be acting like a whore," added Kiril Loris. "I suspect that a different crossover plothole has been opened."

"A bad crossover plothole," agreed Ema. They continued to run. "You think we lost them?"

There came a crash from ahead; without warning the Diamonds came across a clearing where Tino stood with his sleigh and reindeer. "Tino!" gasped Alexandria Peterson. "Thank god you're here!"

"Moi moi! Hurry up and get in the sleigh!" the Finn called frantically. "We're under attack!"

"But Tino, you're on the Clubs side!" Alexandria Peterson panted as the Diamonds piled into the sleigh.

"It doesn't matter right now; we're under attack!" repeated Tino. "Get into the sleigh!"

When the not-Trio arrived at the clearing, they saw Tino and the Diamonds take to the sky in Tino's sleigh. That didn't deter them, since they quickly summoned brooms and gave chase. Everyone wondered when Hermione had gotten so good with a broom, but then they remembered that she wasn't Hermione anymore.

"_Stupefy_!" Ron hollered. Spells bounced everywhere; Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer missed death by an inch. The Diamonds clung to the sleigh in fear.

Without warning, Tino crash-landed the sleigh onto the roof of IKEA, right next to the Pict spaceship. Already bad crossover characters were swarming around the building; there came sounds of battle below.

"Get out! Take cover; the wizards are on our tail!" Tino jumped out of the sleigh and ran over to the Princess, who was giving her aliens instructions. "Is it possible to attack the crossover characters?"

"We cannot, because the crossover characters will then have the ability to turn everyone else into Pict Aliens," the Princess replied sadly.

"Perkele," Tino cursed. "Shall I call for reinforcements?"

"Please try," the Princess said gently. "We can still fight; we will hold them off for as long as we can."

Tino jumped into his sleigh and took to the sky just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione came hurtling down to IKEA. With a sickening _crunch_, the not-Trio crashed into the side of the building.

"Aaugh!" Kriss ducked as the remains of the not-Trio slid down. She pilfered their wands quickly and raced back into the store, where the Hearts, some Clubs, the Diamonds, and two Spades were gathered. They had tied up the Red and Blue Alices with the blue chains that Merka had managed to escape from. Apparently after hearing Red call out in distress, Blue had rushed off to the store, leaving Merka to free herself. It was easy for the fangirl to find the way out; she only needed to follow the bloody trail.

"There are other characters outside. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have just crashed into the side of the building, so they're down for the count," Kriss reported, tossing two wands to Merka and Jennifer. "If these are Mary Sue wands, then even Muggles should be able to use them."

"What did you just call me?" Jennifer demanded, but she grinned. "All right, then. Any other things we can use as weapons?"

Kriss frowned. "I suspect some of the lamps will work," she said after a moment. "And there is the cutlery in the kitchen section…"

"The chairs are helpful," added Azure, curling up on a chair and staring lazily at them.

"Yes, I suppose we will be able to… um… fend off the others. Has anyone found Akiko yet?"

"I'm here," the ninja muttered from a hanging lamp overhead.

"Oh, we were wondering where you were." Kriss smiled and took Merka's hand. "Lurkers of the world, unite!"

* * *

"This isn't enough!" Arthur called as he shot down SatW Italy, SatW France, and SatW Sweden. "They just keep coming!"

"It's like the zombie apocalypse!" Alfred exclaimed as he sprayed the corridor with bullets.

"Alfred, don't use those! You'll kill people on our side!" Arthur dove forward and dragged the American away. The two retreated to a blanket fort, staring warily out the broken window at the raging mayhem.

"That bloody Lilith attacked," Arthur panted after a moment, looking Alfred up and down for possible injuries. "Are you fine?"

"I'll live, Artie," Alfred gasped. "We need reinforcements."

"So do everyone else," Arthur replied, leaning out to shoot SatW China. "Tino just escorted the Nordics over to the maze. Most of the bad crossover characters are there."

"Have you seen Kiku?" Alfred asked suddenly.

"I don't know," Arthur muttered. "I've been looking for him, too."

There came a sudden lull in the battle noises. Arthur and Alfred frowned. "That can't be good," Alfred whispered.

Arthur was checking his mobile. "Mr. Allen has sent out a plea for assistance to the PPC. Matthew, Cuba, and the Nurses are prepping the field hospital. Vash is erecting a Barrier of Neutrality around them; Liechtenstein is tending to Lovino," he reported.

"What happened to him?" Alfred demanded.

"He got injured by a pirate," Arthur replied. "Not one of ours, though. One of the crossovers – some bloke named Captain Jack Sparrow. Pirate Antonio is fighting him right now."

"I don't hear any cannons," Alfred muttered, straining to hear.

Arthur blinked. "That is odd," he noted – and without warning, his eyes fogged over.

"ARTIE!" Alfred screamed, shaking the Briton. "Artie, what the fuck are you – ARTIE!"

"Oh, Alfred," simpered the possessed Briton. "Alfred, I've always loved you."

Alfred stared, but his surprise was all the slash spirit needed to snake its way into Alfred's mind.

And the last thought that occured to the American was that Arthur really did look quite _ravishing_…


	71. Keep Calm and Kill the Sues

**Part XXI**

The situation was Bad. In fact, it was Very Bad.

And even that was understating things, according to the students not in the maze. If the situation outside the maze was Very Bad, then the situation _inside_ the maze must be Hell on earth.

Considering that Loki was inside the maze, there may be some truth to that.

"Hotaru Horenake! Have you heard anything from Mitsuki?"

"No!" cried Hotaru Horenake, chasing after her butterfly headphones. "COME BACK, YOU!"

"This is not the time to chase after your stupid headphones!" Molly O'Flannigan-Oxenstierna screeched.

"This isn't the time to listen to the Pogues, either!"

The students had barricaded themselves in the dorms, making makeshift blackout curtains with black bedding and piling furniture over the main entrances. In the mayhem, Wizard Arthur's spell over the girls' dorm had broken and the boys were huddled in with the girls, trying to form a coherent plan.

It was hard to form coherent plans when the world outside was falling into chaos, though.

"Did you see those slash spirits?" Korah Lyons breathed. Nicole Heather North nodded fearfully.

"What if they get us?" whimpered Aki Chung-Feng, clinging onto Heathcliffe for dear life. "I don't wanna die!"

"Cheer up, Aki, at least Arthur's in no fit position to demand poems from you!"

"Why would you even bother about poems?" snapped Aki, her face streaked with tears. "Our friends are dying out there!"

"Are you sure about that? I think they have to worry more about slash spirits making them horny for people of the same gender," Alice Wang noted.

"WAAAAH, I DON'T WANNA TURN GAY!" Aki bawled.

There was a long silence as everyone stared at her.

"Er… sorry?"

Nick Jenkins sighed. "Whatever happened to Little Miss Intolerant?" He directed that question at Allison Frazier, who was Faye's roommate. The crossdresser shrugged.

Meanwhile, Faye was racing through the Italian Corridor, pursued by a sparkling vampire with a striking resemblance to Robert Pattinson. "NO! GET AWAY!" the platinum blonde screeched, waving a crucifix wildly. "YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!"

"Edwaaaaaard!" someone else screamed, and moments later a brunette girl came bouncing out of nowhere and latched herself onto the vampire. "Don't attack the poor girl!"

"You demonic vampire consort!" Faye gasped, flinging the crucifix at Bella Swan. "Die!"

"I thought she died at the hands of a unicorn," Wizard Arthur gasped, dragging the Rome-Wall out of a nearby classroom. Mighty Major J followed, looking rather scarred for life.

"That fuckin' wall fell on me ten times!" he complained to Faye. "And what the hell is going on?"

"An attack, rightly brought on by God to purge this awful school of its sins," Faye sniffed. "Why God decided to send in sparkling vampires, I don't know."

"Yeah, right," snorted Mighty Major J. "Your God didn't bring this onto the school. Some bitch called Lilith attacked the school."

"LILITH!" screeched Faye. "IT ALL MAKES SENSE, THEN!"

"What makes sense?" The two most hated students in IAHF jogged down the hall.

"Lilith was supposed to be the first wife of Adam, but she proved too… well, too much of a bitch for him. She was created from the same ground as he, but she refused to be subservient. God made Eve from one of Adam's ribs after Lilith left Adam and mated with the archangel Samael."

"Funny how you know that, since Lilith comes from Hebrew mythology," Wizard Arthur pointed out as he levitated the Rome-Wall. Faye glared at him; Mighty Major J hid a smirk with his hands.

"Actually, I heard that the Lilith attacking this school is a clone of some elf. Dunno exactly, but whatever." Mighty Major J shrugged. There came the sound of people sneaking around behind them; the Z fighter whirled around and grabbed Edward Cullen by the neck, smashing him against the nearest window. Said window shattered; Mighty Major J started pulling the vampire apart. Bella Swan screamed and tried to pummel Mighty Major J, but Faye stepped in and slapped her.

"Try to kill her!" the Z fighter called as Wizard Arthur started roasting Edward's remains. "I don't think we'll miss her!"

Faye shuddered, but her fingers closed around Bella's throat as if they had minds of their own, squeezing the life out of the brunette.

"Never again!" she bawled, watching Bella's corpse fall to the ground with shock. "Never… ever… again!"

"Oh, damn, we were a little too late," a new voice resounded. Out of the shadows stepped a man with short black hair and grey eyes. He adjusted his green glasses with a sigh. "Usually we Neuralyse the characters before taking them home. This seems to be a…" he frowned. "What exactly caused this?"

"Bad crossover plothole," Wizard Arthur replied, still levitating the Rome-Wall.

"Oh,_ lovely_. They _could_ have told us that before they sent us here," groaned the man. "I'm Agent Supernumerary, from the Department of Implausible Crossovers. This is my partner Ilraen in his human morph." He nudged a rather androgynous-looking young man with bright ginger hair and green eyes.

"Nice to meet you," Ilraen said with a friendly smile.

"Now, if you would _please_ enlighten us about who to transport home and who to leave alone, that would be highly appreciated," continued Supernumerary drily.

Faye, Mighty Major J, Wizard Arthur, and the Rome-Wall looked at each other.

* * *

"Oh, good, you brought the exorcists," Mr. Allen noted as Agents Eledhwen and Christianne arrived on the scene, followed by some other Agents wielding books and DVDs. "And that's the Hetalia canon, right?"

"Japanese and English versions of the manga and anime," replied Christianne immediately as the Agents from the Department of Bad Slash looked interestedly at their books. "Okay, show them where the spirits have struck."

"They've been targeting the teaching Staff," Mr. Allen replied, leading the Bad Slashers out of his office. The SatW characters were still running amok, but the Staff had been largely paralysed by the second attack. That was one of the side effects of having a mostly male cast – an overwhelming majority of the fanfiction had slash. Slash spirits didn't help, either. Almost immediately the Agents came across Alfred and Arthur enthusiastically going at it inside a blanket fort.

"Oh dear," the dark-haired Agent Orion mumbled, clapping a hand to his mouth.

"That would be Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones," Mr. Allen continued matter-of-factly, drawing a pistol.

"I don't think it will be too hard to exorcise these two," the blue-haired, emotionless Agent Xericka said levelly. "Perhaps you can tackle them, Orion, and the rest of us can tend to the others. Catch up with us later."

"I'll try," Orion replied, swinging his copy of the Hetalia manga.

Mr. Allen led the other Agents onwards; as they turned they heard Orion ringing bells and smacking Alfred and Arthur with his copy of the Hetalia manga.

"Next is Feliciano and Ludwig, over there," Mr. Allen said, pointing to the German and Italian. Agent Xericka's eyebrows went up.

"I did not know someone could bend into that position," she muttered.

"That looks painful," agreed her partner Gremlin. "You can take those two; I heard something about an Ivan Braginski being famous for his cruelty in this fandom."

"Ah, yes, Ivan." Mr. Allen frowned. "He's not cruel per se, but he is the closest we have to psychotic evil. Even then, he does have his explanations for being a psychotic manchild."

"Wonderful," Gremlin cackled.

Sure enough, they came across Ivan brutally beating Toris with his waterpipe. "Sadly, this happens often in fanfiction," Mr. Allen remarked. "Please, you may do the honours, Agent Gremlin." He had gone past horror and disgust long ago with the slash spirits. Mr. Hugh was still reeling, but Mr. Allen was trying to dissociate himself.

With Agents Mal in tow, the Course Coordinator trudged on to find another couple to exorcise.

* * *

"I don't think the IKEA can hold out any longer, and there are drunken Dementors swooping outside."

"And there's a demon butler who likes taking off his shirt."

"And there are a couple of visible faeries with mechanical wings."

The students looked outside. "Maybe we should make a run for it," suggested Ryosuke Nakayama. "There's a back entrance, isn't there?"

"I think they might be there, too," Karen DuLay pointed out, flinging some burnt cookies at the characters outside. The students had barricaded the front doors, but several people were stationed at the back as well.

Kiri Olaveja came running over. "They cleared the back; maybe we can escape," she suggested, panting.

"Bad idea. What if it's a trap?" Kriss snapped.

"We have hostages, remember?" Emmanuella Escatara reminded, pointing to the Vocaloids.

"Do you really want to release the Red Malice?" Kriss demanded, jabbing a thumb at Red.

"Well… why not just release Blue?"

"If we release one, the other will be twice as uncooperative," Kriss snapped. "This is a bad crossover. They're horny for each other 24/7."

Several people shuddered.

"Yeah… let's not do that," Jodie Smith muttered. The students peered outside the windows to see the Pict Aliens and the Nordics fighting the crossover characters.

"I think we should help," Azure whined. "I mean… we talked for a long time about helping, but we haven't acted on what we said yet…"

Outside, the sky was starting to lighten. The battle, however, seemed far from over. Jennifer watched the battle from an upstairs window, but suddenly she noticed that there were other Staff members on the scene.

"Workbitch!" she screamed, pounding against the window, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. He was barely even fighting; he was mostly on defensive until the attacker had a weak moment. That was Workbitch through and through – never attacking until the time was right.

Maybe it was time for the students to join the fight, too.

* * *

"Takara! You shouldn't be here!" Nurse Florance Nightingail exclaimed, rushing over as Takara entered the field hospital. Several injured Staff members had been carried over – Pirate Antonio had been bounced in by the Mochis after his marginal victory over Captain Jack Sparrow.

Considering that Sparrow's boat had been bright pink and he was smoking pot while firing cannonballs…

"You need the extra help," Takara insisted as she waddled over to Aviator Alfred's bedside. The aviator had shot down several wannabe ninjas, but he had then ran out of fuel and crash-landed in Lake Eric. "Anything wrong?" she asked the American pilot frantically.

"I think I broke my leg or something," whimpered Aviator Alfred.

"It'll be fine," Takara whispered, patting his hand. "We'll set it for you if it really is broken. It'll be –"

Her words were drowned out in an explosion and a flash of Urple light.

"THE VAMBIOLARIA BOMB!" screamed Nurse Florance. Luckily, the Barrier of Neutrality stopped the blast from affecting them, but Takara could see outside that the Glitter fallout from the Vambiolaria Bomb was even worse than the fallout from the one that had exploded on Halloween.

"We've got to disinfect the area!" Nurse Clara Bartan insisted, as the Mochis working in the Hospital Wing bounced up to attention. "Where are the other Mochis?"

"In the maze or in the school," Nurse Hélène Fairchild replied. "Where is the antidote to Aura of Smooth?"

"Over here," Mary Crawford called, carting out a giant trolley laden with bright blue bottles. "I think only two people should go out at a time and return as soon as the antidote is used up," she suggested.

Florance smiled. "That seems like a good idea," she said briskly, taking two bottles and snapping on a surgical mask. "Clara, come with me."

The Mochis grabbed their Kuswort leaves and bounced out after them.

Takara waddled about anxiously, trying to help but only succeeding in tripping over her own feet. After a while, Nurse Mary Seacull relegated her to a bed and ordered her to stay there. Even then, Takara anxiously watched the shadows outside the tent.

Nurses Florance and Clara returned soon with their Mochis. "Luckily Mochis don't seem capable of catching Vambiolaria," Clara gasped as she removed her own mask. "Come on, round two."

"Take a breather. There's still a bit of Glitter fallout over the school," Florance replied shakily. "Takara, you should go back."

"I can't!" Takara sobbed. "I'd be too worried!"

"You're in danger, especially considering your advanced pregnancy," Clara insisted. "Don't be an idiot. Go back."

"At least tell me if Mr. Hugh is safe," Takara insisted.

Mary Crawford stiffened. "He's fine," she said stonily. "The last time I saw him he was in Allen mode, telling Workbitch, Howard, and Shinbun to go to the maze."

"Did he go to the maze?"

"He's in the school."

Takara leapt to her feet. "But the school just became ground zero for a Vambiolaria bomb! What if…" She shuddered, rushing out of the field hospital before anyone could stop her. As she raced into the school as fast as her current state could carry her, she saw black-clad PPC Agents duelling Mary Sues.

The final wave of the attack had arrived.

* * *

"I've had enough of this!" insisted MiMi Sonhart, kicking at the barricade. "Look, there are Mary Sues outside! Those bitches are going to kill us all if we don't get to them!"

"I'm in agreement!" Ashton West declared. "Come on, let's go!"

"Do you two even have any plans?" Erika Verena von Richthofen-Marlowe demanded. "If you are going to kill Mary Sues, you need a way to kill them. A weapon, perhaps?"

"Sure, we can use your books," Luna-Amethest snickered.

"I would rather keep my books in pristine condition. Maybe you ought to find something sharp," Erika growled.

"I have mace!" Airlia Asteri insisted. "Maybe I can use that!"

"You'd have better luck stabbing people with a flagpole," Erika replied sarcastically.

Agent Anora rolled her eyes. "I can lead some people outside, since I am a PPC Agent," she replied importantly.

"Killses the Mary Sueses!" chirped Ronil happily.

"All right, we'll let Anora out," Alice said. "Lucas, you want to go, too?"

"I'm anxious," Lucas replied. "I don't know if I will fight, even though I want to get out of here."

"Anxious about Karen?" teased Aida Hor. Lucas looked up to the ceiling, as if asking God why he had been barricaded in with a bunch of idiots.

There came a sudden pounding at the door. The students jumped up, alarmed. Several people grabbed the nearest object they could find to use as a weapon. Birgit peered outside, frowning.

"It's Faye and Mighty Major J. I think they're fleeing from Mary Sues," she said, unsheathing her Gen 2 boffer sword (although Peter had no idea what she meant and gave her an actual sword).

"Oh, great," Kiryll groaned. "Let them in."

When the Z fighter and the fundamentalist entered the dormitory, the first thing everyone noticed about Faye was that she was covered in sparkly blood and looked shocked.

"Did you see that Vambiolaria bomb explosion? We got hit with fallout; I turned into a Mary Sue, and then some Mochi flung some disgusting crow bladder gunk at me! Disgusting violation of my body much?" Faye gasped. "And I killed someone! I KILLED SOMEONE!"

"She's gone insane," Mighty Major J grumbled. "Someone get her to lie down or something."

"I'll do that," Joy Fleet offered, dragging Faye upstairs.

"There are Mary Sues all over the campus, in case you didn't hear it the first time around," Mighty Major J continued. "I'm going back out there to kick some sparkly butt. Who's with me?"

"As much as it pains me to say this, we are all with you," Lucas replied stiffly. "This is the opportunity for us students to defend our school, as sinful as the school may be at times."

"Considering that Mary Sues are the work of the devil…" Blaise Asmodée sniggered, fondling Shoste Thermo in his usual corner.

"Get up, you lecherous worm, and fight for your school," snapped Lucas, tossing Blaise a baseball bat.

The second and third semester students left the safety of their dorms, armed with whatever weapons and blunt objects they could find. Outside, the air was permeated by a Glittery haze, and the pirates still sailing were firing cannonballs at the Mary Sues near Lake Eric.

"Whatever happened to the SatW Nations?" Hannah Lynn asked as she took out her pocket knife.

"The PPC has been sorting them out," a professional-sounding voice resounded, and Agent Supernumerary stepped out from the cafeteria, wiping his hands. "Was that the last _Scandinavia and the World_ character?"

"Seems like it," Wizard Arthur replied breezily, stepping out with Agent Ilraen. "But there are also the crossover characters in the maze… come along now…"

"No rest for the weary," grumbled Supernumerary, pocketing his red pen and trudging along after Wizard Arthur.

The students looked at each other and dashed into the main building, where a battle against the Mary Sues was beginning in earnest. The Bad Slash agents had banished a majority of the slash spirits by now, but several Staff members had emerged from the haze of possession to get afflicted by the Vambiolaria virus. They had been quickly tended to by the nurses racing about, flinging the Vambiolaria cure at anyone who seemed to be affected.

"If you can't use a weapon, say something intelligent!" Francis hollered as he raced past with parallel Francis, the two of them pursuing some Francophobe Mary Sues.

"What does he mean by that?" demanded Suzanne Kobzeff, whacking an approaching Mary Sue with her clarinet.

"It's called Suvian Overheated Cerebrum Syndrome," Agent Christianne called as she ran past, beheading a dark-haired gothic Mary Sue as she did so. "Say something that they can't comprehend, and their brains will fry at the excess knowledge!"

Georgina Quinn frowned, consulting her notepad. "Right, so if I say something really random about the Special Relationship, they wouldn't get it?"

"That's the idea!" Agent Christianne stabbed another Mary Sue in the calf with her sword.

Daisuke Saburo started speed-reciting the preamble to the American Consitution, causing Cassie Kawaiicrystal Marianne Bonnefoy-Kirkland to start twitching in agony. Sparks practically flew out of her head.

"It worked," he whistled, taking a step back to watch the spectacle.

* * *

The first semester students snuck out the back of the IKEA; the Mary Sues entered, but the store was empty.

The students immediately came to a fork. At the same time, Shinbun, Howard, and Workbitch came rushing around the back with the Nordics and the Pict, in retreat from the Mary Sues.

"Workbitch!" Jennifer exclaimed, grabbing his hands. "Are you okay?"

"You lot haven't started fighting, I note," Workbitch replied wryly. "Who's waiting until it's too late now?"

Jennifer laughed sheepishly. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They encountered a question machine. "What colour are Canada's eyes in the manga?" it asked.

"Purple," Jennifer snapped, and she and several other students ran through. They took a side path towards the tower, nearly colliding with Sakura and Hotaru the Perpetually Sleepy as the other Spades ran past.

"Where are the others?" Workbitch demanded.

"There are Mary Sues everywhere!" Sakura cried. "And one of them tried to rape me!"

Jennifer paused. "At least you know rape doesn't equal love now."

"I'M SCARED!" screeched Sakura. "SHE'S THE PERSONIFICATION OF ALAZAK, AND SHE'S COMING THIS WAY!" With a scream, the Spade dragged her partner away. Moments later, America with the very long name came charging down the leafy corridor, in pursuit of Sakura and Hotaru.

"Stop," Workbitch commanded suddenly. Surprised at suddenly encountering a barrier in the form of two very unamused people, the sluttily-dressed, Technicolor-haired Sue stopped short.

"What were you doing to Sakura?" Jennifer demanded, grabbing Workbitch's pistol and aiming it at the Mary Sue.

"I was just trying to be nice," the Mary Sue pouted.

"Sakura said you were trying to rape her," Jennifer snapped.

"She's lying."

"She seemed scarred enough, and I'm more inclined to believe her." Jennifer glared.

"Out of my way, bitch. I've got to settle things with her."

"You will not harm my classmates," Jennifer insisted, and pulled the trigger.

America with the very long name fell to the ground, sparkly blood oozing from her head.

Jennifer dropped the pistol in shock as she watched the corpse vanish. "This… oh my god…" she mumbled. "I killed someone…"

"If she had lived, she would have harmed Sakura. Let's go," Workbitch insisted, picking up the gun and tugging Jennifer along.

They continued along the maze. "What is a popular fanon name for Liechtenstein?" the next question machine asked.

"Lili Zwingli," Jennifer growled. As she crossed into the next corridor, she saw Megan and Taylor up ahead; Taylor was restricting Megan from tackling a dark-haired, pointy-eared Mary Sue. "MEGAN!" Jennifer screamed, rushing ahead to Megan and Taylor. "What's going on?"

"THAT BITCH HAS MY BROTHER!" Megan cried. "SHE'S GOT HIM DRUGGED WITH AURA OF SMOOTH! I'M GOING TO KILL HER AND USE HER INTESTINES TO DECORATE MY CHRISTMAS TREE!"

"Calm down, Megan!" Jennifer insisted, even as the Mary Sue cackled and ran off, Dirk following her obediently.

"Didn't the PPC recruit him?" Workbitch wondered.

"That's my real brother, not his clone!" Megan screeched. "LEMME AT HER!" When she finally extricated herself from Taylor's vice-like grip, however, the Mary Sue had vanished. Megan raced down the corridor, stopped only by a question machine trying to ask her why France tried to ask England to marry him.

"BECAUSE OF THE SUEZ CANAL, OKAY? NOW LET ME GO THROUGH, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Megan yelled, flipping the bird at the machine before running through to her brother. "DIRK! ARE YOU OKAY?"

Taylor pulled out his bottle of antidote and sprayed Megan's brother. Dirk got to his feet, coughing. "What the fuck is going on here?" he demanded.

"A Mary Sue invasion," Megan choked out before nearly knocking the wind out of him in a giant hug. "What happened to you?"

"I got kidnapped by Mary Sues, cloned, and that bitch who just ran off was considering holding me for ransom," Dirk replied grumpily. "Lilith Wydenbrooke or something like that. She orchestrated the entire thing."

"Shit!" Megan sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Dirk!"

"What are you apologising for?" demanded her brother. "Let's just go hunt down that Mary Sue or something!"

When they got to the inevitable fork, there seemed to be a sparkly haze shining in the air between the passageways. "I think she took a plothole out of the maze," Dirk noted, pointing to the haze. "I'm going through. I don't think you guys can leave the maze until you're done with whatever you guys have to do." He shrugged, diving into the haze and vanishing.

"DIRRRRRRK!" wailed Megan, ever the melodramatic. Jennifer looked up at Workbitch.

"Are you going to follow him?" she asked.

"Now that I know you're safe, I think I will," Workbitch replied, kissing her forehead. "I'll be needed back at the school." He tossed her his gun and a case of extra ammunition. "Hopefully you know how to reload a gun. I'll be going, now."

He dove through the plothole as well. When he reached the other side, he was just outside the school.

Takara was being rushed back to the field hospital on the backs of harried-looking Mochis. "What's going on?" Workbitch hollered, racing towards the Mochis.

"Meep! Meep meep, meepity, meep!" Endland insisted, as chogoku blobbed onto a passing Mary Sue.

"What?" Workbitch jogged alongside Takara. "Taytay, what's wrong?"

"My water broke," sniffled the dark-haired girl, her eyes squeezed shut with pain. "OW! DAMNIT!"

The Mochis meeped anxiously and bounced faster. The neutrality barrier was looming ahead. Workbitch ran along behind them, looking around for any stray Mary Sues. The Mochis were getting closer… closer…

And suddenly, Lilith Wydenbrooke dove out of nowhere and stabbed Takara with a dagger.

* * *

**Notes:** Merrrf, I hope I got the PPC Agents thus mentioned somewhere vaguely in character! There'll be more coming along, I suspect, so… all is not lost, I guess?


	72. Oh Snap, They Brought Dragons

**Part XXII**

"Mr. Allen! Mr. Allen, sir, we have news." Shinbun-kun, freshly escaped from the maze, was now running up to the Course Coordinator looking very out of breath.

"Tell me once you get your breath back," Mr. Allen snapped, as Agent Chalk exorcised a slash spirit from Antonio Carriedo. "You also have to get Chibiromano here," he added, directing that at the Bad Slasher.

"Paedophilia happens in this fandom?" Chalk demanded, raising both eyebrows.

Mr. Allen grimaced. "In the fanfic, yes. Not in the canon."

The blonde shrugged, adjusted her cap, and started ringing bells again. "Avaunt! The Hetalia canon compels thee!"

Shinbun leaned heavily against the wall, catching his breath. Finally, he said, "Okay, good news first or bad news first?"

"Bad news," Mr. Allen replied immediately.

"Takara's in critical condition."

"She's here?" Mr. Allen stared. "Hasn't anyone portalled her out of here?"

"Nurse Florance says she's tried to convince Takara to return, but that girl's as stubborn as a Fraser – ow!" Mr. Allen had smacked him for that. "Hey, play nice, okay? I just got bruised there by some stupid FrUK lovechild!"

"Oh, were you expecting me to kiss it better?" Mr. Allen demanded sarcastically. "Continue."

"Right, so she went searching for you, but then she went into labour so the Mochis had to evacuate her. Workbitch appeared to escort her, but everything then happened so fast…"

Mr. Allen looked outside at the setting sun. It had been a long day, and the attack was starting to dull down to a stalemate. The Mary Sues were setting up camps around the maze, where the first semester students were trapped. They couldn't leave the maze, but Alfred had stolen his aviator counterpart's plane and had taken it upon himself to deliver aid packages to the students in the maze. He had also taken the opportunity to shoot down some Cute Animal Friends.

"Come on, get the planes out!" Arthur was hollering in some other part of the school. "They're bringing out the dragons!"

"DRAGONS?" Feliciano's voice resounded. Mr. Allen resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

"Come on, Shinbun, get the rest of the story out," he growled, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Lilith came out of nowhere and stabbed Takara in the chest. She missed her heart by a couple of inches, luckily, but still, that's a serious injury. The nurses did what they can to save her…"

"And the child?" Mr. Allen had staggered at the news; he clutched onto a nearby windowsill to support himself.

"That's the… uh, good news. Emma Victoria Fraser was delivered by Caesarean section earlier this afternoon. Despite being about two months premature, she is perfectly healthy and should be going through de-Glitterification within a few days."

Mr. Allen closed his eyes. "So the baby is fine. What about the mother?"

"In critical condition, as I said before," Shinbun replied, touching his cap. "Her chances of survival are slim."

"How much Glitter does she still have in her bloodstream?"

"We don't know, sir. Glitter or not, it'd take a miracle for her to survive this."

Mr. Allen shook his head. "I need to see her," he said after a moment, "and apologise for what I've put her through."

* * *

"Arrrgh, more demons! And I thought having to go to class with one was bad enough!" Lawrence Smith screamed as he lobbed some not-cake at an approaching demon-Sue. Not-cake, companion to pi pie and not-pasta, were some popular black market delicacies. After all, the cake was a lie.

"Deal with it, buddy," snickered Blaise as he bashed in the demon-Sue's head with his baseball bat.

"You're supposed to stab like this, Coraline." A few paces away, Dorothy Brown was teaching Coraline Freeman how to stab things with knives. "Don't grip it so tightly; it'll put too much strain on your hand. If you're going to chop, don't stick your pointer finger out."

"In, twist, bang," Coraline muttered. "Waaaugh!" She was quickly accosted by an Amazon-Sue. "Help!"

In another section of the school, Stephanie Marie was fighting a Mary Sue who seemed to be very adept at kickboxing. "Need any help?" Bonnie called, racing over with a rather sharp and pointy stick. "I've got something pointy!"

"I think I can handle her! Get out of the way before you get kicked!" Stephanie cried, as the Sue aimed a kick at Bonnie. She dodged it and rushed away, only to nearly trip over Romana Kirlen. The fox girl was crying.

"A giant puppy bit me!" she cried. "It was an evil giant Cute Animal Friend! I DON'T WANNA DIE!"

"We'll get you to the hospital!" Bonnie exclaimed, dragging Romana out of the fray. As they did so, Massie Wilton came running past, following Lucas and the Angels as they flitted about with first aid kits. "Massie! Stop! We've got a girl who got bitten by a giant puppy!"

"It might have rabies!" added Romana.

The half-Angel came rushing back with her kit. "Where was the bite?" she demanded, whipping out gauze and antiseptic.

Lucas, meanwhile, had left the school and was rushing towards the maze. On the way there, though, he came across an injured faerie student in the no-man's land that had been formerly known as the lawn. The Wasignton had been relocated.

"Hannah!" Lucas fell down to his knees. "Are you okay?" By all means he should hate Hannah Harrier, since the girl hated Denmark, but for the moment their differences had been put aside for the greater good.

"I… got stabbed…" Hannah gasped, pointing to her abdomen. Lucas stared.

"Okay, lie down and let me clean the wound." It sometimes felt as if he was always sacrificing himself to the greater good. Maybe that was the job of an Angel. He hadn't really thought about it until now.

When he got the faerie to the field hospital, Massie and Romana were already there, too. So were several other students. Aria Yakushi had accidentally gotten in the crossfire between Arthur and a cat-eared Mary Sue; Jayden Alexander Nieves had been the unwitting victim of a land mine that Alfred had set up in the cafeteria; Amaria Joon Lexun had been grievously injured by a Sue who claimed to represent Luxembourg.

"Great, we're going to have to enlist more students as nurses," Dr. Froyd was grumbling as Hélène Fairchild admitted the newcomers. "We already have the Angels – thank you, by the way – but there's simply not enough. I'd hate to have to leave people to their deaths."

"Want me to help?" Lyssie Blue piped up. She was sitting next to Adriana Taller; the other girl had accidentally gotten on the wrong side of Ivan's waterpipe and was getting her bruises checked.

"We'll need to round up some of the students who have basic medical knowledge," Florance agreed. "Miss Blue, you can do that."

"I will, captain!" cackled Lyssie, jumping to her feet and rushing out of the hospital.

When she got into the school, she had to quickly take cover as Xanax raced past with some giant weapon that would have made MacGuyver proud. "NAY NAY NAY!" the rabbit howled, shooting radioactive scones and other cafeteria leftovers at the Mary Sues as she bounced into the mayhem.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE POINTING THAT!" Elise Rayn screamed as she walked past, duelling with a Mary Sue who seemed to be even younger than her.

"Who to ask… HEY, YOU!" Lyssie yelled at Andrew Yugi Kross. "Do you know anything about… healing?"

"Of course; I'm a mage and an Angel," Andrew snapped. "Does the hospital need help?"

"Yeah, just… go there!" Lyssie flapped her arms and raced off, narrowly avoiding a concussion at the hands of Erin Rowan and her trumpet.

Outside, planes were taking to the sky. At the same time, giant draconic forms rose from the Mary Sue camps.

* * *

"All right, let's drop the care packages off before tackling those bad boys!" Alfred whooped over the radio. He, Arthur, and Kiku were flying in formation, followed by Feliciano and Ludwig.

"Don't do anything too reckless," Kiku advised.

"Aw, come on! We haven't used these babies since last summer!"

"Yeah, and sometimes I still have nightmares about that," Arthur grumbled. "You got the missiles in place?"

"Ready for launching, baby!" Alfred laughed. "But first, Roswell Airlift! Let's go!"

"Wait a second, wait a second," Arthur snapped. "Look, there's smoke coming from the stadium."

Pause. "HO SHIT, THE DRAGONS SET THE MAZE ON FIRE!"

"We've got to evacuate the students!" Ludwig barked over his radio. "We should have sent in helicopters!"

"Feliks! Yekaterina! Toris!" Alfred yelled into the radio. Those three were manning the control tower in the back of the Staff section, where the Staff kept their planes. "Send in rescue helicopters for the Roswell students!"

"Like, roger that!" Feliks called. "Liet, get your bro Eduard into a helicopter!"

"Tino's in the maze, too!" Toris suddenly remembered.

"He can, like, totally fly the Nordics out of that, like, mess!"

Toris relayed the orders to Eduard, Matthew, and Sadiq, his voice quavering as he did so.

"Change of plans, then!" Alfred exclaimed as soon as Yekaterina reported that the helicopters were on their way. "We gotta kick the dragons' asses!"

"Aim for their underbelly," advised Arthur. "Feliciano, you better not have replaced your missiles with white flags!"

"Waaah, I wanna go home!" Feliciano bawled.

"There won't be a home if you don't kill the dragons, you idiot!" Ludwig roared.

"Fire on my command!" Alfred yelled at the same time. "One…"

There were three dragons hovering over the stadium; upon seeing the planes, they started attacking.

"Shit! Scratch my last, then! Fire at will! Shoot whenever you can get a good shot without getting within their range!" Alfred yelled as he did a barrel roll to barely escape a stream of fire.

"I SURRENDER!" screamed Feliciano.

"NO MERCY!" Alfred and Ludwig hollered at the same time.

Meanwhile, the three rescue helicopters hovered over the maze, scouting for students.

"There are several Spades over there, in the northwest corner…" Eduard noted.

"And the Diamonds are over there… they seem to be running away from a forest fire, eh…" Matthew frowned. "If only they were in one group!"

"That's the problem, innit?" Sadiq demanded. "Come on, let's just save their sorry asses and get the hell out of here!"

* * *

Heart racing, palms sweating, Mr. Allen raced across the field towards the field hospital. Takara was already dying – she may already even be dead.

The dragon attack had set the stadium on fire, but Alfred and company were already taking them down. After that, the Mary Sues had retreated, ostensibly to regroup for another attack. Mr. Allen worried about their next step – would they bring out another Vambiolaria bomb? Luckily most had escaped the effects of the first one, but going through that again…

In this temporary peace, the students and Staff who weren't running around nursing the injured or draining water from Lake Eric and from the beach around that damn island to put out the stadium fire were finally catching up on their sleep. Mr. Allen suspected he would have to cancel classes for a week after it was all over so that everyone could sleep. He would need it, too.

Even_ if_ sleep deprivation led to true evil…

"Don't… uh… cry…" Mr. Allen saw Andy Kirk gingerly patting Faye Markus's back. The platinum blonde was sobbing. "You still owe me one."

"I know that! I'm just crying about how you barged in and killed the Gary Stu before I had a chance to retaliate!"

"Yeah, right, he was choking you and harassing you at the same time," Andy snapped.

"Are you calling me weak?"

"No, I'm saying that the Gary Stu was stronger than you." Andy beamed. "If you're all right, I'm going to go sleep somewhere else. You still owe me big-time."

Mr. Allen walked past, wondering when silence had turned into such a beautiful sound.

He didn't have time to dwell on that, though, because suddenly a dark form came out of nowhere and knocked him unconscious.

* * *

"I FEEL LIKE WE'RE SUMMONING THE DEVIL OR SOMETHING!" bawled Kitty Smith as the Clubs ran and ran, trying to outrace the flames. Next to her, Anita was singing England's Campfire Song of Doom™.

"Fire rises up, and burns all to a crisp," Anita sang; Loki chimed in moments later.

"Arrgh! Shut up already!" Mike Hawk screamed.

Saying that the students were just a little tired from two days' lack of sleep was like saying that Ivan was just a little psychotic. The students were ready to collapse on the ground and sleep for a week, but they didn't dare to. Not only was the bloody maze on fire, but there were still Mary Sues after them.

The only good thing was that the question machines were now malfunctioning, and could do nothing to stop them.

"Talk about working under pressure!" A PPC Agent crossed their path suddenly; he and his partner were heading towards some other part of the maze. "I think we ought to get a pay raise for hunting down those damn Vocaloids in a burning maze."

"They're insane Vocaloids, too, don't forget that," Wizard Arthur chipped in helpfully as he ran past with them.

"Agent William Marshall should be here any time now," the second Agent piped up helpfully.

"Don't think he'll be entering the maze, though, with its current state," the first one pointed out drily. "And where are the fire fighting planes? Isn't this fandom chock full of World One technology?"

"Don't ask me; I'm the resident incompetent wizard!" Wizard Arthur put up his hands in defence.

The Clubs ran on, crossing paths with Hearts, Spades, and Diamonds. "There are rescue helicopters on the way," panted Anastasia Debby. "I saw Celeste and Luna escape on one."

"Mirabelle, Huskie, and Gregory Bob Walton left on another," reported Kriss, squeezing Merka's hand comfortingly.

"The Alex Inquisiton is safe," reported Laurel Martin, who had gotten Jennifer's pilfered wand. "So is Kiril Loris. He couldn't take the heat, I suppose."

"Well, he's a vampire," Ema Skye pointed out, shrugging.

Jennifer panted, collapsing on the ground. "I want to sleep," she complained.

"We'll sleep when we're dead," snapped Franklin, tossing her a box. "Take some stims."

The pills were passed around, and the students started running again. Right, left, down, up. Up in the night sky, the dragons roared and wheeled about wildly as the missiles hit them. One of them suddenly gave a keening cry and plummeted.

"INCOMING!" screamed Karen, as the dragon fell a few feet away from them. The students took cover quickly as the fatally injured dragon flapped its wings pathetically – although a pathetic wing flap from a dragon could probably blow down the third little pig's brick house. Already students and Mochis were putting out the maze fires.

The students still in the maze ran onwards, towards the Effie Tower. The dying dragon had smashed down several hedges in front of the tower, and said tower stood in front of them like some beacon of hope. It was even lit up like the Eiffel Tower at night.

"LET'S GO, LET'S GO! IT'S RIGHT THERE!" Megan cried, breaking out into a run as they neared the tower.

"Don't be so quick! What if there's a Mary Sue trap there?" demanded Kitty.

"Yes, what if there was a Mary Sue trap here?" another voice sneered. Out stepped a girl who appeared to be a cross between Prussia and Belarus. She was followed by a girl who looked like a cross between America and England.

Jennifer and Megan simultaneously paled. "Ho shit," Jennifer whistled. Megan said nothing, only taking a few steps back.

"Who are they?" Taylor asked hesitantly.

"The Prussia-and-Belarus one is Roksana Arlovskaya… I created her…" Megan whispered.

"The other's Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones," added Jennifer. "I'm _her_ creator."


	73. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

**Part XXIII**

"I don't think just killing the Mary Sues is going to cut it," DMS Agent Danny Richardson said. The PPC Agents were gathered around the desk in Mr. Allen's office, looking at a tactical map of the IAHF campus and grounds. "Agent Nume already pointed out that he has portalled SatW England back to his home continuum at least three times now."

"He just doesn't understand the meaning of 'stay', does he?" Supernumerary, or the aforementioned Agent Nume, demanded, adjusting his glasses irritably.

"Or it could be that we aren't targeting the plothole directly," Agent William Marshall pointed out, pointing his wand at the blob that represented the bad crossover plothole. "Usually crossover plotholes occur because of unresolved sexual tension, and the traditional way to close them is to resolve the tension. That is common knowledge. However, we are in no position to hunt down sexually tense couples and force them to resolve that tension."

"Yes, this is quite the emergency," Agent Ilraen observed. "Is there another way to destroy the plothole?"

"Yes, yes, there is." Agent William said. "This plothole did not naturally occur. It was created by a Mary Sue. It is still being sustained by the Mary Sue. We have two options: convince the Mary Sue to shut down the plothole, or kill her."

"I don't think she'd be eager to opt for the first choice," Agent Nume remarked sarcastically.

"And which Mary Sue is it?" added Agent Amelia Keaton. She, like everyone else, was covered in Glittery Sue blood.

"Ah, Cornelius hacked into the LoMSF database to get us that information," Agent Laura Dukes said, grinning. "He's gotten everything you would care to know about the primary factory involved in this attack – and all of the other factories that are sending in their excess Hetalia-verse Mary Sues."

"How do you know we can trust his information?" Agent Xericka asked suspiciously.

Agent Laura snickered. "Come on, you think he's going to mislead us at a time like this? He's got blueprints on the Vambiolaria bomb… and information on the mastermind." She slammed the folder of information down on the desk. "Lilith Wydenbrooke."

"That's Agent Eledhwen's clone, isn't it?" Agent Ian Nahinu asked. Eledhwen looked sheepish.

"My question is… do you kill Lilith or the Mary Sue in charge of that specific attack?" Christianne pointed out. "See, this document shows that the attack was staged in three parts."

"And there are two Mary Sues leading each stage," added Agent Ilraen, tilting his head to the side curiously. "One of the Sues that led the bad crossover attack is called Cierra… I will not even try to finish reading that name. And the other is Dorothy Sparklesbury."

"Some of the other Sues there are dead," pointed out Agent Amelia. "Look, the one called America with the very long name got shot. And I recall killing Michaylah Arlovskaya, too."

"The Cassie Sue got killed by a student," Christianne added helpfully. "Either way, I think the Mary Sues will only stop once we've killed their leader, Lilith."

"Yes, Lilith planned the attack to gain herself more influence in the League," Eledhwen said.

The other PPC Agents stared at the map. "Where was she last seen?" Agent Gremlin asked.

* * *

When Mr. Hugh opened his eyes, he was in the Hospital Wing.

The next thing he noticed was that his head felt rather devoid of thought. Usually his mind would be full of Mr. Allen's caustic remarks and plots, but his alter-ego seemed to be unnaturally quiet. Mr. Hugh frowned, and then looked over to the side.

Another tall blond man lay in the bed next to his, chest heaving quietly in sleep. Mr. Hugh's frown deepened. What was going on? Did they finally separate his personalities? The last thing he vaguely remembered was… _what_ was the last thing he vaguely remembered?

"Ah, you're awake!" A voice like poisoned honey crooned. An _elleth_ with a striking resemblance to Agent Eledhwen slunk out of the shadows, leering at him. "I have been positively _dying_ to meet you."

Mr. Hugh's eyebrows arched up. "What did you do to me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I did you a little favour and separated you from Allen," the_ elleth_ drawled. "Just so that I can have you…" she paused and smirked. "_All to myself_," she added in a deadly whisper.

Mr. Hugh's eyes narrowed. "I don't recall learning your name," he growled.

"It's Lilith," the _elleth_ replied dismissively. Mr. Hugh had to grudgingly accept it – she was beautiful. In that ethereal, inhuman way, she was really quite stunning. Inhuman, of course, was also the key term, since she was also responsible for the attack and yet here she sat, talking about it as if it had been nothing more than stealing candy from a baby.

"Right, then, Miss, er, Lilith… why do you… er… want me?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Lilith cackled. "You've been killing people in my chain of command. You're the Course Coordinator of an Official Fanfiction University. You're connected to my despised clone. It would do me great pleasure to hear you beg for mercy as I slowly kill you…" her eyes flashed dangerously, and suddenly she didn't seem as beautiful as she had before. "Or I can be deliciously cliché and have some fun before I kill you. Hm, I like that thought." Lilith licked her lips.

Mr. Hugh wondered where had put his Document of Character Deportation.

"And as for your alter-ego… I have a lovely friend of mine who would love to have him. She's somewhere in the camps right now…" Lilith shrugged regally as she walked over to his bed. "Ah, well," she sighed, smirking. "What to do first…."

"Get away from me," Mr. Hugh hissed. Lilith laughed.

"You're going to have to do better than that," she replied, and grabbed him in a place she shouldn't have grabbed.

Mr. Hugh turned bright red and lashed out, slapping her across the cheek. Lilith reeled from the diplomatic bitchslap, staggering back a bit before recovering. By that time, Mr. Hugh was up, trying to shake his alter-ego awake. Mr. Allen mumbled incoherently in his sleep; Mr. Hugh groaned in exasperation as he shook harder and harder.

"WAKE UP!" he cried, even as Lilith tackled him. He kicked back, groping around for any weapons. Noticing a pistol in Mr. Allen's belt, Mr. Hugh wrenched himself free from the _elleth_ and grabbed the gun, aiming it up at her temple at the same time that she pinned him down and put a dagger to his neck.

"You fire, I stab," she drawled, smirking evilly.

* * *

"Oh, hey, Annie," Megan said, grinning weakly as Roksana Arlovskaya stared coolly at her creator. "What are you doing here?"

"It's obvious, innit? I'm here as part of the invading army," she replied, crossing her arms. "If you want to get to the tower, you'll have to go through me."

"Annie, I don't want to hurt you," Megan whimpered, looking up at Roksana pleadingly.

Kriss muttered something about being glad that she wasn't meeting Téa. Jennifer stared at Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones, remembering the crazy powers that Susanna had. Ho snap, they were _so_ dead.

"Come on, Jen, Megan; just shoot them already or something!" Merka cried. The other students clamoured for the same thing.

"I don't know; I think Susanna has the ability to shapeshift!" Jennifer bawled. "She likes turning into her opponents' worst fears!"

"What, she's a Boggart?" demanded Laurel Martin, pushing past Jennifer. "_RIDDIKULUS_!"

"Did you just call me ridiculous?" Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones screeched, before turning into a zombie. Laurel screamed, taking a few steps back.

"You_ just_ started screaming at zombies? You've been going to school with a zombie ninja!" William Ofritas cried, as Laurel continued to scream. The Russophile stepped forward, blocking Laurel from Susanna.

The Mary Sue turned into a very crude replica of Mr. Bean. William twitched, but raised his pistol and fired.

"No use, no use!" Jennifer cried. "She has a magical star-shaped amulet that is the source of all of her power! You can't harm her until that thing's gone!" Meanwhile, Susanna had turned into a clown, having seen Scylla and Charybdis. Scylla screamed in terror, ducking behind Merka. Susanna turned into Ivan; Merka paled.

"Let's just kill her buddy first, then!" Kriss hissed, pointing her wand at Roksana Arlovskaya. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Roksana crumpled to the ground; Megan started crying.

"Annie, my baby! I'll revise you someday, I swear!"

Susanna saw the alien and turned into a generic preppy blonde. "Megan, you have to conform. It's no use. If you don't, we'll have to kill you."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Megan. "I REJECT YOUR RULES!"

Mike Hawk leapt forward and pulled Megan away from the forefront, but not before he got a glimpse of that creepy girl who haunted him back home. He screamed like a little girl and ducked behind Loki, who paled when Susanna morphed into Belarus holding a sign that said 'welcome to the kolhoz'.

"Why did you create such an annoyingly powerful character?" Kriss demanded, shaking Jennifer wildly. Susanna had just turned into a polyester-wearing slob to frighten Taylor Drews-Garcia out of strangling her.

"I DON'T KNOW NOW, DO I?" Jennifer howled back. "I THINK… IT WAS BECAUSE…"

And suddenly the memories of her life before IAHF came flooding back. Being teased on the playground. Being called fat by her dad. Being pressured into taking the Certificate of Merit by her mum and that crazy Russian piano teacher. Jennifer shuddered, shaking her head. It was no wonder why she created Susanna. Susanna was a shapeshifter to stand up to the playground bullies by changing into their worst fears. Susanna was pretty and had her favourite characters as parents. Susanna was talented at the piano and at math, two things that Jennifer was terrible at and detested.

"It was because she was everything I wasn't," Jennifer said after a moment. "And she got everything I didn't."

That was true, too. Susanna had graduated from Princeton University at the age of sixteen. She managed to land a perfect boyfriend. Everything was sparkly rainbows for her; she didn't have to work to be perfect.

By now, the other students had gradually backed away from the boggart-like Susanna. Jennifer found herself in the middle, between the students and the Sue. Susanna, having turned back to a smug USUK lovechild-Sue, looked at her amusedly.

"We meet again," she chirped, and turned into a giant cobra. And that was when Jennifer noticed – just below the cobra's hood was a magical amulet in the shape of a star.

But the snake was slithering towards her; Jennifer's brain almost froze out of fear. She paled; her hands went clammy.

"Come on, Jen, you can do it!" Kriss called. Merka took up the chant. Suddenly, everyone else was offering her encouragement. Jennifer continued to stare at the hissing snake. _Flight… or fight_?

Shaking, she drew Workbitch's pistol and took careful aim. In fact, she aimed it a little off from her target; she knew her shaking arm wouldn't do her abysmal aiming skills any good. The cobra hissed, rearing up. Jennifer freaked out and pulled the trigger anyway.

The bullet snapped the chain holding the amulet; the star-shaped deus-ex-machina necklace fell to the ground. At that moment, Carolina Brown dove forward and caught the necklace; it glittered innocently as the cobra turned back into a frightened-looking blonde girl with blue eyes and moderately thick eyebrows.

"Mercy, Jennifer!" she cried, looking petulantly up at her creator. Jennifer stared back with disgust etched all over her face. Susanna raised her hands in surrender.

Jennifer shot her anyways.

* * *

"Damn, we just missed the dragon thing," Agent Sergio sighed as he and Agent Corolla strode into the office. Eledhwen was rolling up the map carefully.

"Y-yes, I suppose you did," Eledhwen said shakily. "So much mess…"

"Get used to it, Ellie," Christianne groaned.

"The world's in disorder!" bawled the _elleth_. "Everything is untidy! I must clean it all…"

"No, you can save that for later!" Christianne dragged her partner out of the office, followed by the other Agents. "Let's get back to work, then, hunting down Lilith and killing Sues. How many slash spirits have been dispatched?"

"Countless," remarked Agent Chalk drily.

"No, it was more along the lines of fifty," Agent Jenka growled.

"Lighten up; that was meant to be sarcastic," Agent Chalk retorted.

"How many misplaced crossover characters have been escorted home?"

"_Some_ of them keep returning, but I would hazard to say around fifty as well," Agent Nume replied.

"And how many Sues have we killed?"

"A thousand!" Agent Norion called.

"Don't be silly; it was more like a million!" Agent Frag retorted. "And I killed most of them!"

"No you didn't; I did!"

"The actual count is more like seventy-five," Agent Danny whispered.

"Wonderful. We'll split up again and continue to do our duties then – except Ellie needs to find her clone, and I'm going to make sure she doesn't end up trying to clean the school like that little robot in _Wall-E_."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Eledhwen sniffled.

The PPC Agents all ran off in opposite directions once outside the largely-deserted Staff Section. Eledhwen frowned slightly once they passed the Hospital Wing.

"Using that Elvish sixth sense, are we?" Christianne remarked drily, shooting a passing Sue as it pursued a student.

"I think…" Eledhwen strode up to the door, her sword at the ready. "She's in here." She kicked the door open.

Sure enough, Lilith and Mr. Hugh were still frozen in that rather comical-yet-dangerous position. Mr. Hugh had a dagger to his neck; Lilith had a gun to her head. They were glaring at each other hatefully.

"What is going on?" Eledhwen demanded loudly, and both looked over at her with identical surprised faces.

"Hey, he got cloned!" Christianne said suddenly, poking Mr. Allen's still unconscious form. "Who's who, I wonder?"

"Allen's asleep," sneered Lilith, even as Eledhwen nicked her cheek with her sword. "What brings you here, Ellie?"

"Get off him," Eledhwen threatened, her face thunderous. "Right _now_."

"Wow, our little _elleth _grew a pair," Lilith taunted.

"Wow, our little Mary Sue gained some brains," Eledhwen mimicked. "Get off him."

The sounds of conflict from outside were starting to make their way back to the Staff section side. Christianne trained her pistol on Lilith as well, not relaxing even when the malevolent Mary Sue clambered to her feet, letting Mr. Hugh spring back up. He fumbled with a nearby plothole and pulled out the Document of Character Deportation. "Shall I deport her?" he asked, thwopping the document threateningly.

"Deportation doesn't kill," Christianne pointed out. "We're here to charge and kill."

"What charges?" Mr. Hugh asked.

"Lilith Wydenbrooke," Eledhwen piped up, "you are hereby charged with: being a Mary Sue, masterminding and instigating an attack against an Official Fanfiction University, assaulting the Course Coordinator of said OFU, kidnapping the family members of students at the OFU, instigating terrorist attacks, hacking into computer databases, starting arms races, detonating Vambiolaria bombs, and doing all of this just to boost your influence within the LoMSF. The punishment for all of this is death –" she was abruptly cut off by an almighty crash and bang. Moments later, Alfred and Ivan came charging into the Hospital Wing.

"We heard things about Mr. Allen being taken host –" Alfred cut off at the sight of Mr. Hugh pointing a rolled-up document at Lilith, and Mr. Allen lying comatose on the bed. "Wow, I'm seeing double!"

"The one that's passed out is Mr. Allen," Christianne said quickly. "This is Lilith. She caused everything."

"You hear that, Alfred?" Ivan asked. "Let's have another competition. Whoever can kill this evil Mary Sue first is the better superpower!"

"You're on!" Alfred exclaimed. And before Lilith could protest, the two Nations tackled her.

"Oh, the lovely Narrative Laws of Comedy," Christianne sighed. "Never a dramatically serious moment in this place."

"I thought we managed to get away with that once or twice," Mr. Hugh noted as Ivan started gleefully whacking Lilith with his waterpipe.

"Nope, you can't avoid the fail," Agent Nume appeared, dusting his hands. "We just found, neuralysed, and returned the Red and Blue Alices," he added. "They were… shagging in a storage closet. Of all the cliché places to select…"

Arthur's eyebrows went up as he walked in with Kiku. "Red and Blue are finally deported?" he asked.

"Oh, that's good," added Kiku, blushing slightly. "It would be unsettling if they continued to make –"

"We are not talking about that," Arthur hissed. Kiku nodded.

"Oh, yes, forgive me," Kiku mumbled, clapping a hand to his mouth.

The others looked at each other uneasily and decided to ignore that, choosing instead to watch Alfred and Ivan. After a moment, the American and the Russian stood up and surveyed their handiwork.

It was hard to use 'handiwork' to describe the carnage, though. Lilith's remains were almost unrecognisable, and Alfred and Ivan had more Glitter on them than on Edward Cullen in the sunlight. Nurse Florance rushed into the room, took one look at the carcass, and fainted. Luckily, Shinbun caught her as he dictated the proceedings to Agent Ian Nahinu, his brown eyes alight.

"Maybe we should get the two of you cleaned up," Arthur suggested, taking out his handkerchief and wiping excess glitter from Alfred's brows. "Nataliya, Yekaterina… could the two of you escort Ivan back to the Staff Section?"

"Oh, of course!" Nataliya bounced over and practically dragged Ivan out of the Hospital Wing. Ivan sent Arthur an 'I will get you for that' look. Arthur grinned, grabbing Alfred's arm and pulling him out as well.

Mr. Hugh sighed as Ivan and Alfred were escorted to the Staff section. Even as the two disappeared into the Staff section, everyone in the Hospital Wing could still hear them arguing over who dealt the first death blow.

"I'm sure it was when I choked her, Ivan!"

"Nyet, you're wrong! It was when I stabbed her between the eyes!"

"Nuh-uh! It was totally when –"

"You both killed her at the same time, now _don't be ridiculous_!" Arthur yelled.

"What's going on?" a new voice cut in – well, it wasn't a new voice, but it seemed new anyway. Mr. Hugh turned to see Mr. Allen, looking rather bewildered. "I get the feeling that I missed something."

"Understatement of the century," snapped Agent Nume. He was suddenly unceremoniously shoved aside by Howard the Spy and Mary Crawford, both of them wearing identical horrified faces.

"Hugh, you've…" Mary trailed off, looking at Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh. "Both of you, down to the hospital. Takara's dying."


	74. The World Is Just Awesome

**Additional Disclaimer:** Don't own "Bad Romance", "I Just Had Sex", "I Wanna Have Your Babies", or "Boom De Yada" (Hetalia version or not; the Hetalia version belongs to mithrigil at LJ).

* * *

**Part XXIV**

"Takara, please!"

Takara looked up from her hospital bed to see Mr. Hugh taking her hand. Right behind him was… well, if that was Mr. Hugh taking her hand, the other must be Mr. Allen.

"Don't die," Mr. Allen offered, looking awkward but still rather melancholy. "We're so sorry for what we've brought upon you – this pregnancy… and now this…"

"It's fine," Takara breathed, willing her body to stay alive a little longer. "It's going to be all right."

"No, it's not," Mr. Hugh mumbled. "Not without you."

"Everyone, away from the bed," the recently-revived Nurse Florance snapped, shooing curious students and Staff alike away from Takara's deathbed. "Mary, Howard, you two may stay. Out, Shinbun!"

"But _ma'am_!"

"A lady is _dying_ here!" Nurse Florance glared. Shinbun doffed his cap and acquiesced.

"Hugh…" Mary reached forward and patted his shoulder. "Hugh, I'm so sorry for what I've put you through emotionally."

"It's fine," Mr. Hugh muttered, looking petulantly at Takara. "Taytay, you'll live through this, please. For me?"

"It doesn't matter. I just want you to promise me…" Takara gasped for breath, "that you'll take care of Emma. Even if you can't raise her on your own, you won't leave her with a pair of Agents who will neglect her. Please?"

Mr. Hugh nodded. "Least I can do," he sighed. "I promise."

"Swear on it, then," Takara mumbled, extending a pinky. Mr. Hugh linked their pinkies, suppressing the lump in his throat as he watched Takara's eyes close. Her hand slipped from his, limp and lifeless.

"I'm sorry, man," Mr. Allen sighed, patting his alter-ego on the back. "She grew on me, too."

"Isn't there a way to bring her back?" Mary asked quietly. "Like there was for me?"

"No, not for her type of character," Howard mumbled. "You and Hugh are historical figures. Most of us Staff members are canon characters. The students have contracts on file that keep their information on hand for resurrection. Takara, on the other hand, was an abandoned Original Character. She has no paperwork for her resurrection."

"But that's not fair!" Mary exclaimed. "She has to have had a creator, right? If she was an Original Character – surely one of the students could have created her!"

"One of the students…" Mr. Allen whispered. His eyes suddenly lit up. "That's it! We check the students' fanfics; if a character that looks like Takara pops up, we can copy her information into a file and voilà!"

Mr. Hugh patted Takara's clammy hand. "But somehow… I fear she won't be the same. The Takara we recreate…"

"Look, Hughie, do you want to live without her?" Mary demanded. "I can tell you love her. And that's what scared me before, but I'm accepting it now."

"Mary, you've always sacrificed everything for me," Mr. Hugh replied, looking sheepish.

"It's because I loved you enough to sacrifice myself for your greater good." Mary smiled bitterly. "Would you like to see Emma?"

Little Emma Victoria Fraser was awake when Mr. Hugh went to see her. He was immediately grateful that the Glitter didn't give her an implausible genetic makeup – it would be a bit hard to say that he fathered a purple-haired, pink-eyed child, no matter how much Glitter she absorbed in the womb.

Emma had his blue eyes and Takara's dark hair. Glitter seemed to have played a huge influence in gene expression, since Emma seemed to have opted for her mother's facial structure instead of his. But no matter how hard the Glitter worked, it seemed incapable of thinning down Emma's Arthur-esque eyebrows. Both of her parents had them, after all.

"You should try holding her," Mary suggested gently, swaddling the little newborn and picking her up. "Support the neck, remember that."

One of the hormones secreted during birth and breastfeeding by mammalian females is oxytocin, sometimes referred to as the love hormone. It evokes feelings of contentment, calm, and security around loved ones, facilitating maternal behaviour, sexual arousal, and that strange feeling called 'love'. But more importantly, oxytocin facilitates bonding. When holding a newborn baby, people tend to believe that they will do anything to save the poor thing. They usually chalk it up to the baby's divine innocence, or love, or whatever sappy excuse they can come up with while cooing at the little pink thing in the hospital blankets. They usually don't even consider that these overwhelming urges to catch a grenade for the baby or to throw their head on a plate for the baby come from a hormone secreted by the mother prior to the baby's birth.

Coupled with the trace amounts of Aura of Smooth still secreted by the baby Mary Sue, one could easily say that Mr. Hugh was doomed to keep her from the start.

"She's so adorable," Mr. Hugh sighed after a moment of pacing up and down the aisle with the infant. "I… I don't think I can give her away now."

"She has your eyes," Mary noted, smiling. "And look! Your nose, too."

Emma gurgled a little and smiled. "But she's got Taytay's mouth," Mr. Allen murmured, peering over his alter-ego's shoulder. "This sort of cuteness should be illegal."

Yep, oxytocin did a great job here. It had been doing a great job ever since its inception, since without the love hormone, there would be no civilisation.

* * *

After Mr. Hugh shooed them away to have some oxytocin-infested bonding time with his daughter, Mr. Allen followed the PPC Agents and several sadistic students out into the grounds to get rid of the rest of the Mary Sues. Mr. Hugh had promised to meet up with them at the Effie Tower to determine the victors of Project Roswell.

The Mary Sue camp was largely disappearing; the slash spirits and the crossover characters had all disappeared by now. As the sun began to rise, the Mary Sues left became the victims of a giant massacre. It was mostly the students venting their frustrations, but Agents Frag and Norion were still keeping track of their kill total.

"Eeee, it's you, Allen! It's you, it's really you!" a Mary Sue with blond hair and a Vargas curl screamed, launching herself at a very bewildered Mr. Allen. "Don't you remember me? I'm Feliciano and Ludwig's daughter, and we were supposed to be in a relationship but then all the other Nations disapproved and it was like Romeo and Juliet and – ow! What was that for?" Mr. Allen had shot her in the stomach. "Allen, why are you so _meaaaaaan_ to me?"

"Feliciano and Ludwig aren't biologically capable of having a daughter," Mr. Allen replied, taking aim again. The Mary Sue stared.

"What do you _meaaaaan_?" she whined. "I'm their beloved daughter! See, I'm kinda like Feli but then I'm strong like Luddy! And you're one to talk; you're Alfred and Arthur's kid!"

"No, I'm not," Mr. Allen ground out. "You know that was meant to be a fandom joke, right?"

"Waaaaaugh, this isn't happening! You were supposed to_ loooooove_ me!" whimpered the GerIta lovechild.

"Oh, please, do shut up already," growled Mr. Allen, and shot her in the head.

"Oh, no you didn't!" Another Mary Sue, followed by several Gary Stus, charged out of the nearby tents. Strangely enough, they all looked like hybrids between various characters – although the last one looked like a rather comical cross between Spain and China. And it was also hard to tell who the guy in the glasses was supposed to be; he looked like an erudite Charlie.

Mr. Allen managed to shoot the lovechild of Lovino and Antonio, but he nearly got strangled by Tino and Berwald's kid. Had it not been for a rather bloodthirsty Asian vampire, he could have been overpowered by this particular group of lovechildren.

"You are a student here, aren't you?" Mr. Allen asked said vampire as she tore out the Korea-and-Vietnam lovechildren's throats.

"Well, yeah," the vampire replied. "I'm Thorne Silverblood. I have three friends at this school… they kinda made me do it…"

"Right," coughed Mr. Allen. "Thank you, then." And he strode off to shoot some other Sues.

By noon, all of the Sues had either escaped via portal or were killed. Mr. Allen surveyed the work rather appreciatively, as Arthur and the other Staff members arrived with plans of decorating the PPC Agents who participated in defending the Academy.

"I'll leave you to decide on that, then, Arthur," the Course Coordinator said to the Briton as he fiddled with the Remote Activator. "I need to meet Mr. Hugh."

Mr. Hugh was already outside the Effie Tower, looking up towards the observation deck. "All of the students not rescued from the fire last night ended up in the Tower," he said, raising both eyebrows. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Oh, it's simple," Mr. Allen replied, grinning. "Everyone wins."

"How very cliché of you."

"Well, they all reached the tower, didn't they? And it's not fair for the students who escaped – self-preservation was just a higher priority for them than finishing the maze."

Mr. Hugh snickered. "You're turning soft."

"You're getting old."

"We're only what, twenty-three? Same physical age as the Nations."

"Well, you died at the ripe old age of fifty-seven!"

"Considering other people died at thirty-seven back then, I was lucky!"

"You also died of… like… stomach cancer!"

"It was not stomach cancer, you git! It was probably something like intestinal failure!"

"You don't even remember how you died? Mein Gott!"

"Shut up! Had I lived a couple of centuries later, I would have survived, damn it!"

The students at the top of the tower heard the two of them bickering. "Wow, it's like second-generation USUK," Merka sighed dreamily as she watched the spectacle.

"How'd they separate Mr. Hugh and Mr. Allen?" Hotaru asked, yawning widely.

"I don't know, but this is entertaining," Megan cackled.

Jennifer said nothing; she was already fast asleep. It had been a very long week.

* * *

"Let's just knight the lot and sleep for a week," Arthur yawned, pouring himself another cup of extremely strong tea.

"Yes, let's." Despite having been separated into two and therefore physically capable of being in two places at once, the Course Coordinators still found themselves busy running up and down the school, supervising Mochis as they rebuilt, and making sure the students weren't taking advantage of the situation and sneaking into the Staff Section. There was also the question of what to give to the PPC Agents as a token of gratitude – but Arthur had already decided on creating the Order of the Mochi (he couldn't think of a better title) and appointing the PPC Agents to that.

"We have some very important announcements to make!" Mr. Allen called from the podium in the Orientation Hall after dinner. "Considering that there are still two or three weeks until the semester is officially over, we would normally have preferred to save these announcements for the end of the semester. However, the next week will be an unofficial holiday so that everyone can catch up on their sleep."

There were cheers from the students and the Staff – Hotaru and Heracles seemed to be very enthusiastic about it.

"Final exams will be distributed the week after, for second and third semester students. First semester students are exempt. Based on your grades, all of you first semester students have passed. Licenses will be distributed at the graduation ceremony."

More cheers resounded from the first semester students.

Arthur took the podium. "On behalf of the Staff at IAHF, we would like to offer tokens of gratitude to the PPC Agents who defended this Academy during its… er… darkest hours." He smiled. "Um, Francis and Alfred… the badges, please."

Francis and Alfred came out with a trolley, piled with badges and sashes.

"We've created an order of chivalry here at IAHF, in honour of age-old traditions in our countries," Arthur continued. "It is the Order of the Mochi, and there are three classes – Call Me God, Kindly Call Me God, and God Calls Me God."

Several people snickered; Lucas looked rather affronted.

Arthur frowned. "Oh, wait… never mind. I was reading it wrong. The classes are: Companion – CMG, Knight Commander – KCMG, and Knight Grand Cross – GCMG. Unlike other orders of chivalry, however, we have decided not to put distinctions between male and female post-nominals. The PPC Agents who have served today will be decorated with the Knight Grand Cross, and they will receive a badge."

Slowly, the Agents made their way to the podium and received their badges. "You know, I've realised something," Mr. Hugh whispered to Mr. Allen as they watched Francis and Alfred pin the badges. They were rather lurid white-enamelled Maltese Asterisks showing all of the Hetalia Nations in miniature within dark blue rings that bore the words 'Marukaite Chikyuu' – obviously the design had been influenced by the badge of the Order of St. Michael and St. George.

"What?" Mr. Allen whispered back.

"You know the Order of St. Michael and St. George is awarded traditionally to members of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, right?"

"The British diplomats, yeah."

"I never got one of those."

Mr. Allen raised both eyebrows. "Surely you jest," he muttered.

"You had always been the jester, you idiot," Mr. Hugh retorted. "If you ever see a list of Ambassadors from the UK to Japan, you will see that with the exception of the current Ambassador, I am the only other Ambassador without honours."

"You were also technically Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary," Mr. Allen whispered.

"Still. Everyone else got 'Sir' or 'the Honourable' attached to their name for all of their troubles," Mr. Hugh pointed out.

"Oh, poor Hughie," snickered Mr. Allen. "Dying painfully and not even getting recognised for it! What's the world coming to?"

"Shut it, you!"

As Agents Joan Ford and Bob Nothing returned to their seats with their badges, Elisabeta replaced Arthur at the podium.

"Now, for the students," she said, smiling. "I would like to announce that every first semester student will be receiving a prize for being the first to reach the Effie Tower. Yes, that's right – everyone won. It's a bit hard to figure out exactly who won with the given circumstances, so we're giving everyone – even the evacuated ones – a prize." She nodded to Roderich, who rolled out another trolley laden with books. "We have compiled a yearbook for the first semester students, so they can cherish those wonderful memories of falling into abysses, getting blobbed, and being strung up from the ceiling by their toes."

Several students winced in remembrance. "If there's one thing I learnt from this school, it would be 'never piss off a Japanese person'," Kriss whispered. "Extend that to all Asians while we're at it."

"Naw, I'm pretty sure it's 'never stampede Swiss men with guns'," Merka replied, laughing as she took her yearbook.

Nurse Florance stepped up to the podium after Elisabeta and Roderich finished passing out yearbooks. "I would like to offer our deepest gratitude to the students who volunteered at the hospital during the last few days. In order to honour them, I would like to present each volunteer with the Bled Heart." She held up a Bled-and-Wilver medallion on a Bled ribbon. The Angels (and Lyssie Blue, Didi, Jillian, Massie, Hannah Lynn, Autumn Fanners, Andrew Yugi Kross, Nemo, Laisai Delavie, Septembre Nightingale, Yumi, Dorothy Brown, and Sidneh Stapler) accepted their awards with nods and smiles.

"That seems to be everything important," remarked Mr. Hugh as Lucas took his seat once more. "Off to bed, then! Catch up on your sleep."

Somehow, that seemed to be the best award of all.

* * *

Summer stole into IAHF like a dream. Although second and third semester students complained about finals (Yuki-rin rubbed her lack of finals in Kazuma Miyafuji's face every time they met), the week-long vacation turned out to be a good way to let the school cool down from the excitement and focus on the finals.

"Yes, finally! Freedom! FREEDOM!" screamed Dana as she ran out of the What's In A Name finals that Friday. A little ways away, Andy and Sara were playing catch up.

"So, you guys finally finished the Sexual Clarification Seminars?" Sara asked lazily, watching the smoke from Andy's cigarette waft out into the blue sky.

"Yeah," Andy muttered, shrugging. "Very informative stuff. Not like I will ever need that information, but still…"

"You never know." Sara stole his cigarette and took a drag. "It might come in handy someday."

The Pirates had dropped anchor in Lake Eric and were enjoying the sun with the rest of the school – or bickering amongst themselves, as the case may be with Pirate Francis and Pirate Arthur. Some things never changed.

"Buono tomato, buono tomato, buono, buono – ooh! Tomato!" Lovino sang as he swung on a tire swing dangling from a branch over the lake. Feliciano and Ludwig were splashing in the water nearby, oblivious to the nosebleeding, drooling fangirls on the banks. Kiku was teaching Antonio how to fly a kite; Antonio's kite was predictably decorated with turtles and tomatoes. Arthur sat with a cup of tea on the dock, reading a book. Alfred and Ivan were having a swimming race not too far away; Francis had his arms on the dock, watching Arthur read with a faint smile on his face.

Since the Headmaster drew pictures of the entire Hetalia cast preparing for summer, that indolent mentality had snuck upon the Staff like a welcomed disease. Even if 'welcomed disease' was an oxymoron.

But there was no rest for the truly weary, and Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh found themselves working with Mary and Howard on finding Takara's information and caring for baby Emma. The average cost to raise a child like Emma for its first year was approximately ten thousand American dollars – and that didn't even begin to cover the time spent feeding the baby, burping the baby, and changing the baby's soiled diapers.

Mr. Allen obviously couldn't wait until Emma was potty-trained.

"I think we've found her," Howard announced the afternoon before graduation day. IAHF was scheduled to close for a sorely-needed fangirl-free summer holiday; it would reopen for the second and third semester students (not to mention the new students) in late August.

"Hm?" Mr. Hugh looked up from the bassinet, where Emma lay trying to grab his finger. "You've found Takara?"

"Well…" Howard looked thoughtful. "I've found an Original Character named Téa Victoria Honda-Kirkland. As you can tell, she is an Asakiku lovechild and the representative of an imaginary country known as Anglapan."

"And Anglapan is geographically where the Kuril Islands are…" Mr. Allen leaned in. "That makes no sense. Russia owns the Kuril Islands."

"Japan claims the southernmost four," Mr. Hugh pointed out, looking at the picture. The girl had dark hair, green eyes, and thick eyebrows… she bore a striking resemblance to Takara. But there was something different about the girl he was looking at – maybe it was because she hoarded yaoi.

"She's the closest match," Howard pointed out. "We just need her basic information; we can even 'reprogram' her a bit if that's what you're scared of –"

"No! I'm not scared of anything!" Mr. Hugh exclaimed. "I'm just wondering how she could possibly replace Takara!"

"We can resurrect Takara with Téa's information. Past that, she's your problem," Mr. Allen remarked.

"You're so helpful. You're treating her like one of your newfangled robots. That's what bothered me about the whole thing." Mr. Hugh shook his head. "Look… all of this talk about resurrecting Takara… and 'reprogramming' another character's personality… I can't make head or tails of the technobabble, but all I know is that I don't think it's right."

"What's wrong, darling?" Mary asked, tilting her head to the side concernedly.

"All of this! We're rebuilding her after she's gone! It's not really even resurrection anymore – it's more like 'build Mr. Hugh's perfect little trophy wife out of spare parts manufactured in the U.K. and Japan'! She said on her deathbed it didn't matter anymore, and somehow, I think that means that she wants to stay dead."

"Darling, we're not _making_ you resurrect her," Mary sighed. "If you felt this strongly about her last wishes, then why didn't you say so? I just wanted you to be happy, and she made you happy… so…" She leaned over and hugged him. "It's your choice, darling."

"Call for an undertaker, then," Mr. Allen told Howard. "Don't tell the students. Shinbun can run an obituary if he wants to, but I don't think the first semester students liked Takara that much. They're not obliged to grieve."

In the bassinet, Emma stared up at the ceiling, unaware of the unnaturally serious world around her.

* * *

"Breigher, Jennifer."

Ludwig was reading the list of graduates. Everyone sat at round tables on the front lawn, where the Wasignton had been restored. Japanese paper lanterns hung everywhere, and wild assortments of roses adorned the tables.

Jennifer clapped as Merka bounced up and took her license, beaming from ear to ear. All of the first semester students had spent the last weeks collecting signatures and preparing to leave. As a last parting gift, the Staff had allowed each graduating student to adopt one Mochi. Jennifer took Endland, even though she had gotten on Endland's bad side several times before.

The yearbook had pictures of practically every event that Jennifer had heard about (and every event that she didn't. Who knew about the Invisible Nations Ball that had been held in October?). It also included pictures of the various groups (the Nerd Group had a rather nice photo of everyone holding up 'live long and prosper' signs) and cliques (the Threesome had a two-page spread dedicated to their dramawhoring). It even included various stages of Kitty and Anita's chart. Luckily, Mariam Webb had not written GerIta slash all over the margins or hinted at possible sexual liaisons between the students and the hypothetical penguins, but she had definitely made some important changes.

First of all, Mighty Major J seemed to have scored at long last – and with whom else but Faye Markus? When Andy found out, he had a fit of hysterics so horrible that Sara had to knock him out to calm him down. Speaking of Andy and Sara, they had garnered at least a wavy arrow between them, but no one was certain about anything relationship-wise. Karen DuLay and Lucas finally got an arrow between themselves; Cain had paraded the cafeteria like a peacock yelling 'about time' at the two of them.

"Chang, Jennifer!" Jennifer walked out across the stage and accepted her license with a smile. She spotted Workbitch and Endland saving her a seat in the audience. Shinbun, Mary, and Howard were at their table as well; Mary and Howard were holding hands.

"When's the wedding?" Jennifer asked as she sat down. Howard chuckled sheepishly.

"Before August, I can say that at least," he replied, looking over at his grandson. "Work, you don't mind having a step-grandmother, right?"

"Not at all," Workbitch replied smoothly. "Welcome to the family, Mary."

"Say, whatever happened to your American twin?" Howard asked suddenly. "I haven't seen him since October."

"He, Jeanne, Iceland, and Napoleon are doing some…" Workbitch trailed off, frowning. "_Research_," he said after a moment. "You know, going into bad fanfiction to see similarities, patterns, what-have-you."

"They'll be returning soon?" Mary asked. "It'd be horrible if they lost their minds in there."

"Yes, they will be returning in July," Workbitch agreed, nodding.

By nightfall, all of the graduating students had received their licenses and all of the food had been eaten. As the stars started twinkling in the summer night sky, Kiku lit the Japanese lanterns and the music began.

"RAH AH AH AH AH!" Kriss yelled into a microphone – the Staff had dragged out a karaoke machine. "ROMA, ROMA MA MA! GA GA OOH LA LA! WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!"

"No, no, change the song!" Mighty Major J grabbed the mike. "I JUST HAD SEX, AND IT FELT SO GOOD! A WOMAN LET ME PUT MY PENIS INSIDE OF HER –"

"Of all the things he could have sung about…" Jennifer remarked, facepalming. In some ways, the Z fighter never changed. In other ways, he seemed to have changed completely. Maybe the Rome-Wall did knock some sense into him after all.

"M-MM-M-MM! GONNA BUTTON MY LIPS SO THE TRUTH DON'T SLIP! M-MM-M-MM! GONNA BLEEP OUT WHAT I REALLY WANNA SHOUT!" Charlie had stolen the microphone. "WHOOPS? DID I SAY IT OUT LOUD? DID YOU FIND OUT? I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABIES, GET SERIOUS LIKE CRAZY! I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABIES, SEE THEM SPRINGING UP LIKE DAISIES –"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, change the song!" Mr. Hugh called from where he sat burping Emma.

Ludwig grabbed the microphone from Charlie. "I love this bratwurst!" he sang.

"I love my Ottomans!" sang Sadiq. In a lower voice, he added, "they are many."

"I love my husband!" Elisabeta sang.

"I love your frying pan!" chipped in Gilbert.

Feliciano grabbed the mike. "I love the whole world! Especially Germany!" He looped a happy arm around a spluttering Ludwig, as the GerIta fangirls rolled about in hysterics.

"Boom de yada!" Antonio chimed in.

"This is bullshit," Lovino retorted.

"Boom de yada – SING GERMANIA!" the Rome-Wall called from the back, where he was under the shade of a tree and covered in Japanese lanterns.

"I love my two dads," joked Matthew, as he took the mike from Feliciano.

"I love delinquency!" cackled Francis.

"I love the Staatsoper," continued Roderich.

"An' I love piracy!" Pirate Arthur called from his ship.

Alfred laughed and took the microphone. "I love the whole world! Except for communists!"

Immediately all of the Communist Nations sang the chorus, with Ivan conducting them.

"I love my mum's art," yawned Heracles.

"And Freddie Mercury," continued Kiku.

"I love my short skirts!" Feliks exclaimed.

"I love my privacy," Yao mumbled.

Ivan continued to conduct, dragging the Baltics and Nataliya to the front. "I love the whole world!" he sang. "And all its Baltic States!"

"Boom de yada, boom de yada, boom de yada –"

"LET'S GET MARRIED!" screeched Nataliya, tackling poor Ivan.

"L'v' m' F'nl'nd," Berwald sang, taking the microphone.

Tino frowned. "I'm not yours," he muttered, but he sang, "And Hana-tamago!"

"I love my big axe!" continued Denmark.

"I love two-metre snows!" added Norway.

"I love my island!" chipped in Peter. "And Scandinavia!"

Everyone sang the last chorus. "Boom de yada, boom de yada, boom de yada, boom de yada!"

Jennifer laughed at the spectacle, snuggling into Workbitch's embrace. "You know," she said after a moment or two, as she watched Kitty and Anita trade e-mails and Megan, Andrew, and Karen Sanghieh talk about setting up a meeting back home. "I'm going to miss you like crazy."

"So will I," replied Workbitch, smiling a little. Off to the side, Merka and Kriss were having some last-minute cuddles.

"If I hear that you get together with another student, I will come back and haunt her if she hurts you."

"If I hear that you get together with another boy back home – or, god forbid, Alexander – I will hunt him down and castrate him if he hurts you."

"How unnaturally cruel of you."

"You started it."

Jennifer laughed again, leaning up to kiss him.

"I love you, too."


	75. This Is Home

**Notes:** One last chapter, one last jab at a type of fanfic I haven't covered yet. Can anyone guess what it is, and which songs I am quoting?

* * *

**Part XXV**

_Dream of her lips, of her soft and pure voice  
Of a memory forever embraced, of this night, right by your side!_

There was always something about coming home from an adventure that made people wonder if the entire thing had actually been a dream. A long, beautiful dream, so detailed that it made those people suspect that their minds had been tampered with.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was, when Jennifer woke up on the couch in her study, seeing her computer screen still lit with the Fanfiction page up on the screen, she wondered if she had been dreaming.

Yet there was a difference between dreams and memories. You rarely remember dreams. You rarely forget memories.

Jennifer couldn't forget what happened to her, especially not when she looked to the side and saw Endland, sitting on top of a book. Her IAHF yearbook.

"Endland, you better make sure my mum doesn't find you, or she'll eat you for breakfast," Jennifer told the rice ball. Endland meeped and hopped onto her bookshelf, staring at her with his grumpy green eyes. Jennifer took the photographs and stilled frames in her mind; smiling at the memories, she put the yearbook on the shelf next to Endland.

One look at the clock told her that she would be in big trouble if her parents caught her in her study this late at night. Turning off the computer, Jennifer tiptoed upstairs to go to bed.

_I dream, but still I complain, my heart indifferent to the life that awaits me tomorrow._

Like in all the dramatic films, there are moments in people's lives that required quoting song lyrics. Trying to adjust to mundane life again was such a moment for Jennifer. How could she ever begin to describe the dream-like adventure that she had? She could probably find Alexander at school, but he would probably pretend that his part never happened.

After all, it was easy to deny one's part in a giant shared dream. It was easy to make others look insane.

"Is there something wrong?" her friend asked her after history class. Jennifer had been notorious before for spacing out and for giggling at inappropriate moments in her history class. Now she knew everything before the teacher even talked about it, and she maintained such a serious demeanour throughout the class that even the teacher got worried.

"Nothing's wrong," Jennifer insisted.

On the way home, she passed by her neighbour's house. The camellias were in bloom. They reminded her of Workbitch.

_Even far away, your soul is near me  
Inside my dreams._

Homesickness turned into mild depression. It was strange, really. She had spent so much of her first semester wishing that the year was over so that she could get her license and write more fanfiction, but now that she had her license, she had no inspiration anymore. Funny how the grass could always look greener on the other side.

Besides that, how was she ever going to do the Nations justice? She had spent a whole year in their company, being taught by them. She had gained so much more respect for their history. She had so much left to learn about their relations in current events.

If there was one thing Jennifer had learnt from her experience, it was that life continued, whether she wanted it to or not. Even when the history book ended, history continued. Even when Alfred ended the last History class with the Middle East conflicts, he had made sure to say "to be continued".

History was one long soap opera, always ending each episode with "to be continued". That was one thing the Hetalia anime got right.

_I was ready to share the world with you._

And maybe Hetalia didn't get everything right. That wasn't the point. The point was that Hetalia had taken history and made it fun. Hetalia made history personal. By creating national personifications that were young, energetic, and easily relatable, Hetalia further cemented the concept of history being a long soap opera.

Where the Hetalia canon left off, the fandom began. If there was another thing that Jennifer had learnt from her experience, it was that the Hetalia fandom was vibrant. It only took one flick of a paintbrush for them to see a fabulous world. The fans surged in where the canon couldn't go – the darker parts of history, the controversies in current events – and made those parts relatable.

Yes, there were still insensitive portrayals and outrageously terrible tributes, but most people had started out with good intentions. Some simply lacked the talent and experience to turn that good intention into a good portrayal.

After a moment, Jennifer decided that she had better stop wallowing in introspection and actually put her thoughts to good use. The music wasn't helping, even if the singer looked and sang like Francis.

And there she went again, relating everything to Hetalia. Once a Hetalian, forever a Hetalian.

* * *

Months passed. Finally, one day in Februrary – Valentine's Day, she remembered Kriss and Merka had started going out that day – Jennifer opened up her Hetalia fanfiction folder again and looked inside.

"Susanna Sparklestar Kirkland-Jones and Australia luv story?" she asked Endland, who was perched on her shoulder. "Time to clear out the skeletons in my closet, hm?"

"Meep," Endland agreed.

And over the span of four months, Jennifer wrote and wrote. Some would agree that the best source for inspiration comes from memories and experiences, and Jennifer certainly had enough memories and experiences for her story. She learnt to take note of every little detail of the world around her; sometimes it was the details that made the story more enthralling.

Soon, she was looking at the final curtain. Somehow, ending the story felt like leaving IAHF again. Jennifer didn't want it to end. She never wanted anything good in her life to end.

"Another turning point; a fork stuck in the road," someone noted in a jarringly familiar voice. Jennifer spun around, surprised. Endland meeped happily and bounced onto Mr. Hugh's head. The Course Coordinator laughed, taking the Mochi off his head and petting it.

"Time grabs you by the wrist; directs you where to go," Jennifer replied, looking up at him confusedly. But Mr. Hugh chose to delay.

He quoted another stanza of the song. "So make the best of this test and don't ask why," he murmured, taking a seat on her couch as Matthew had done so long ago. "It's not a question but a lesson learnt in time."

"It's something unpredictable," Jennifer guessed, "but in the end it's right."

"I hope you've had the time of your life."

Jennifer smiled a little and saved her document. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Hugh."

"And you, too, Miss Chang." The IAHF Course Coordinator smiled again, as Endland wriggled out of his arms and hopped up to his bookshelf perch.

"You do know my parents are in the dining room with my grandparents and my brother, and if they hear you –"

"No worries," Mr. Hugh smirked. "If they come in, they will think you are simply talking to your muse."

"What?"

"They will think you're batshit insane." Mr. Hugh cracked a smile. "But that's of no big importance. You see, the reason why I bothered to pay you a visit is because I am giving you a job offer."

"A job offer," echoed Jennifer, feeling as if her brain had frozen in place.

"Yes. In fact, I don't even think it's an offer. You've been appointed to the Group of Eight."

Jennifer stared. "Come again?" she asked.

"The Group of Eight! Are you daft?" Mr. Hugh flapped his arms in a very un-Mr. Hugh-like manner. "We have decided to hire eight IAHF alumni to better represent the students on campus. They will be required to attend all Staff meetings and will enjoy all the benefits of being an IAHF non-canonical Staff member. They will offer suggestions for improvements, and create bimonthly reports on the status quo of the students. In short, they will act as my cabinet advisors and… diplomats, if you will extend the analogy."

Jennifer frowned, nodding nonetheless. "I see."

"And I suppose I will have to add in another reference to Hetalia in order for you to accept the position?" Mr. Hugh continued breezily. "The Group of Eight, in your world, is a meeting of heads of state from eight major economies. Guess which ones."

"France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, and Russia."

"Oh good, you paid attention to Francis." Mr. Hugh clapped his hands. "We have decided to give each seat on the IAHF G8 the name of each country in your world's G8. You may take the position of 'United Kingdom', if you accept this spot."

"Who else will be in the group with me?" Jennifer asked hesitantly.

Mr. Hugh rather predictably pulled out a document from thin air – or a plothole – and handed it to her. "Jennifer Breigher has been appointed as the 'United States', Kriss Kross will be 'Japan', Taylor Drews-Garcia will be 'Italy', Franklin Mycroft Livingston will be 'Germany', Charlie Tenterden will be 'France', Sara Parker will be 'Canada', and Loki Shadow Reave will be 'Russia'. We tried to select students who will work well together and represent a variety of Hetalia fans, from the fangirls to the nerds."

"Oh," Jennifer said softly. "And why was I selected?"

Mr. Hugh smiled and took the paper from her. "You know, I used to hate you," he said. "But you seem to have matured during your time at IAHF, and you had the courage to face your own fears in that maze. You seem capable enough for the job. Will you take it?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I will!" It was like feeling a balloon of happiness expand in her chest; Jennifer felt as if she had temporarily defied Newton's laws and learnt how to fly. She was going home. After all of this time, she was going back to where she was accepted for who she was (by Workbitch and so many other people); where historical knowledge was valued more than popularity (after all, if the Nerd Group was the most prestigious club on campus…); where it was okay to run through the halls yelling about alpacas (she remembered hearing a rumour about the Headmaster keeping alpacas in his office); and where everyone, no matter what race or gender or sexual orientation they were, was accepted by everyone else because of their mutual love for Hetalia.

That was the beauty of the fandom, and Jennifer wanted to keep it that way.

"Pack your bags, then," Mr. Hugh replied, brushing imaginary dust off his trousers as he stood up and shook her hand. "You will be allowed to take vacation leave and see your parents from time to time, but for the moment we have arranged a story for your disappearance." His eyes twinkled. "Alfred contacted the admissions office at Princeton University. Your parents will believe that you're off to be the youngest graduate at that school. Do try to come up with good stories for them on your visits home, won't you?"

Jennifer snorted. "I never knew you had a sense of humour, Mr. Hugh," she said as she helped him work the Remote Activator. The blue portal opened up, and Endland eagerly bounced through. Jennifer took her nearest and dearest belongings, and looked back at her study. "Bye," she said softly to her computer.

The computer only flashed two words in reply:

_The End_.

* * *

_Some say I'm a bit of a fool,  
sitting on a hill and counting raindrops.  
Keep thinking that I just want to go  
to the peaceful place I know,  
that I call home._

_But oh, oh, oh,  
It's time to go  
I'll see you; I'll see you soon_

_Because I can't wait for tomorrow  
To say the things I want to say  
Your smile will always lead my way  
I can't wait, I'm coming home to you  
I just want to see your face again  
I'm coming home_

**END INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY OF HETALIA FANFICTION**

* * *

**Additional Disclaimers:** I do not own the song "Sognu" by Amaury Vasili (I used the English translation), "Time of Your Life" by Green Day, "Marukaite Chikyuu", or "Coming Home" by Sjonni's Friends.

**Notes:** First off, a big thank you to Hidekaz Himaruya for creating Hetalia, and Studio DEEN for turning it into an anime.  
Thanks are also in order for Miss Cam, Meir Brin, and everyone at the PPC for providing influences, information, and inspiration.

History also has my eternal gratitude for being so amusing. Google Lord owns my soul for research; Wikipedia God can share my soul with Google Lord for providing basic information. Additional acknowledgements go out to Arthur Hermann (To Rule the Waves: How the British Navy Shaped the Modern World), Winston Churchill (The Great Democracies), the writers of my AP Euro textbook (The Making of the West: Peoples and Cultures), the writers of the REA AP Euro book, Sean Lang (British History for Dummies, European History for Dummies), Hugh Cortazzi (British Envoys in Japan), Mary Crawford Fraser (A Diplomat's Wife in Japan and all of her other books), the writers of all of the language books I checked out, and the writers/editors of TIME Magazine.

I would also like to thank my Journalism teacher, my Brit Lit teacher, my debate coach Matt, and my AP Euro teacher for providing information and inspiration. Merci beaucoup, Madame, pour corriger le français dans cette histoire.

And now, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, recommended, favourited, drawn art for, wrote fic for, and (most importantly) **read** this story. I hope the trip has been educationally cracky, just like the Hetalia canon itself. I wish you all the luck with your own stories.

That being said, if you have some last-minute feedback to give me, I would be more than happy to read it. I want to know your favourite parts, things that could use some improvement, classes you would have liked to see, and so forth. (And before you ask, Bled's origins will forever be a mystery. Unless you are **thecorruptedquietone**, that is)

I am toying with the idea of a sequel, but with the current state of affairs at home (I'm college-browsing right now; can you see that I have my sights on Ivy League wet-dream schools?), that is really a hypothetical situation. My parents want me to put all of this on hold until I cross the college applications bridge. Still, I'm considering _something_, I guess, even if it's going to just be a drabble collection.

But I am rambling again. Thank you all, once more, for sticking with my blantant self-insert and her crazy adventures at IAHF. I love you all (in the platonic way, mind you).


End file.
